


To Every Thing a Season

by Ice_Cube44



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 'temporary character death', Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, I promise, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Whump, in between the angst, no magic, only science, seriously, some characters have temporary 'not so happy' endings, this kept getting fluffy on me, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2018-12-18 12:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 85,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11873928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice_Cube44/pseuds/Ice_Cube44
Summary: After witnessing the tragic murder of his brother Liam, Killian Jones is more determined than ever to discover the secrets of time travel. Fast-tracking his education at Storybrooke University, Killian is assigned a lab assistant, one Emma Swan. Together, they find a way to break through the veil of time so Killian can set things right. But what will be the price for changing the past, and is it one they're willing to pay?





	1. To be Born and to Die

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the [2017 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge](http://captainswanbigbang.tumblr.com) over on tumblr. You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following the blog there and/or subscribing to the Group Collection here on AO3.
> 
> This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Thursday from now until its completion.
> 
> And yes, there is a happy ending after all this... just so you know.

 

**_Check out the video that[ab-normality](http://ab-normality.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this fic! You can watch it here, on her blog, or over on [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rhY6uB_V4w)!_**

 

**_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/164566223957/to-everything-a-season-by-icecubelotr44-summary)!_**

* * *

* * *

“Keep up, little brother.  We want to get good seats for this lecturer of yours.”  Killian tried to glare as Liam laughed jovially and reached out to ruffle his hair.  His glasses slid down on his nose as the roughhousing got a little too rowdy, but Liam backed off immediately when Killian stumbled.  

He wasn’t a _baby_ any more; why couldn’t Liam understand that?  He was thirteen years old, had already taken his GCSE’s the year before - three years before any of his peers - and was well on his way to finishing his sixth form courses in record time.  He’d be done with his secondary education that spring and could move on to a bachelor’s program after he’d taken some local classes to prepare himself for the rigors of his program.  Colleges and universities were already hounding their father to admit him early, and, with Liam’s guidance and support, Killian planned to accept an enrollment at Oxford contingent on his classwork.  Liam was already looking at flats there for the two of them while he attended classes.  Oxford University was far enough away from Brennan Jones that Killian could thrive in the educational culture without reproach.  Without his father’s blatant disapproval and patent neglect.

The book in his hands was written by the speaker they were in Ireland to see.  This man was well-versed in quantum mechanics and had ideas that meshed with Killian’s own theories and early experiments.  He wanted very badly to speak with the man after the lecture, see if he could glean just a little bit more knowledge to help with the blueprints he was drafting.  The chapter he was currently devouring as they walked down the street, complete with highlighter in hand and a bit of luck in not tripping over the sidewalk, was the main subject of the lecture.  

Killian paused to turn the page, covering a passage completely in scribbled yellow.   _This_ idea was something new; something that might get him over the latest obstacle in his calculations.  Completely absorbed in the words on the page, he paused in the middle of the walkway, his eyes glued to the information.  Unknowingly, Killian sank down to sit hunched over the book on someone’s front steps, the cold of the concrete ignored in favor of the knowledge that gripped him.

The numbers for his algorithm bounced around his head wildly; if he could just figure out this stage of the formula, then maybe his father would take him seriously.  If he could just work out how to make the bridge connect, then he could convince someone to fund the construction of his machine.  Time travel was possible; he _knew_ it was.  Now if he could just-

 

 

 

> **_BANG! BANG! BANG!_ **

The noise startled him, but not enough to tear his eyes from the page.  He lost his train of thought, angry that the numbers fell silent once again, his equation just out of reach.  Coming back to himself, Killian realized that those noises sounded like gunshots.  

_Probably a car backfiring, Jones, don’t be a baby_ , he rationalized, waiting for Liam to come back around the corner he’d disappeared beyond.  His brother was probably going to yell at him for dawdling, for getting lost in his brain again, but Killian couldn’t help it.  The science of time travel - of quantum mechanics and theoretical physics - was just so interesting.

 

 

 

> **_BANG! BANG! BANG!_ **

The noise came again, making Killian look up sharply.   _What_ was _that?_ he thought.   _That_ wasn’t _a car._  He didn’t have much time to ruminate on it as people began to run towards him from around the corner, yelling about someone shooting and the blood from a man who was shot.  Killian stood to his feet abruptly, heart racing as he waited for Liam to get him - to get them to safety.

But Liam didn’t come.

The crowd began to thin out and Killian still didn’t hear his brother’s familiar lilting accent, didn’t hear the fear that should be ringing out clearly from his brother’s voice because Killian wasn’t with him.  Didn’t hear Liam calling out his name.

Because Liam wasn’t coming.

Killian started running, pushing through the remaining people on the street who were grabbing at him, trying to pull him away from the danger around the corner.

He ignored them.

He finally made his way around the building, his heart in his throat and praying to a God he wasn’t sure he believed in that Liam had gotten dragged the other direction by the crowd.  Praying that he wasn’t going to find the scene that was already forming in his head.  Begging anyone who would listen that Liam was okay.

Knowing that he wasn’t.

There was a cold feeling settling in his gut, tears already stinging his eyes and leaking down his cheeks, breath caught in his chest and making him gasp in precious oxygen as he ran.

His brother’s worn leather bomber jacket.

Jeans with a hole under the back pocket that he’d poked fun of Liam for weeks about.

Scuffed, black boots that had spent a lifetime stacked neatly next to Killian’s sneakers.

Blood.  So much blood covering pale skin and frigid concrete and hands reaching out weakly towards Killian.

Weak coughing as more blood bubbled up and out of Liam’s mouth.

Screaming.  So much screaming and crying and pleading and _was that him making those sounds?_

Sharp pain across his knees as he slid across the concrete.  Warm wetness on his own jeans as Liam’s blood seeped into them.  Cold, abject terror settling in even as he cradled his big brother’s head in his lap.  Droplets of water falling from his face to Liam’s own.  Gasping and the vise around his chest, tightening ever so slowly around his heart.

Liam’s hand reaching up to brush the tears away.

Killian grabbed his brother’s hand, locking their fingers and squeezing hard.  He brought Liam’s hand up to his own cheek, making sure his brother could feel that he was safe.

Liam opened his eyes.

The blue gazes locked together, matching sets of misery and pain and fear.

He had never seen Liam afraid before.

“Are you all right, little brother?”  Liam’s voice was so strained that it hurt Killian’s ears trying to understand him.

He nodded, biting on his lower lip to try and stop the tears so he could reassure his brother.  “I think you mean younger brother, Liam.” He tried to rely on their normal banter to soothe them both.

“You’ll always be my little brother, Killian.  Even when you’re all grown up and a doctor and flying through time to save the world.”

He gripped tighter when Liam’s hand loosened on his.  “No. No, no, no, Liam.  No, you’re going to be fine.  We just need to get you some help.  Get you to hospital.  Help!  Someone, please!  Hel-”

“It’s all right, little brother.  Killian, it’s all right.  You’re safe.”  Liam’s voice was soft, gentle, and it made the tears Killian was trying to hold back course down his cheeks even faster.

Killian was shaking, clutching Liam as close as he dared.  There were other people around them; he didn’t know where they came from but as long as they helped, as long as he could stay with Liam, then he didn’t care.

“Who was the first electricity detective, Killian?” Liam asked with a grin.

Killian just shook his head.

“Come on, little brother.  Who was the first electricity detective?”

“Sherlock Ohms, and it’s still not funny, Liam.  You’re going to be fine, right?”  He needed Liam.  He needed his big brother.  They were going to Oxford - Liam already had a job lined up and waiting.

“Think like a proton, right?”  Liam was still joking, but the words were a mere whisper and his eyes kept fluttering closed.

Killian rolled his eyes, wiped a bloody hand across his nose, and responded by rote.  “Because they’re always positive.”

Liam nodded, then closed his eyes.

They didn’t open again.

“Liam?” Killian choked out.  “Liam, wake up.  Please.  Open your eyes, Liam.  Liam, _please_.”

He hugged his brother tightly to his chest, buried his face in Liam’s neck, and sobbed.

Liam’s body went limp in his arms, and Killian curled over him until they were both lying on the cold sidewalk.  “I’ll fix this, Liam.  I know how.  I’ll figure it all out and I’ll come back and fix this.  I’ll save you.  I promise.  God, I promise I’ll save you.  Please, Liam, please.”

The people became important then - because they were pulling him away from Liam, dragging him back from the emergency personnel taking Liam away from him.  He was screaming again, his throat hoarse as he cried and fought, trying to get to his brother.  He needed Liam.  Liam needed him.

Liam didn’t need anyone anymore.

When they got Killian situated in the back of the ambulance, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and an oxygen mask against his face, he sat numbly.  There was a flurry of activity around Liam, but the droning alarm on the machine told him all he didn’t want to know.

The doors to the back of the ambulance shut while Killian’s eyes were still fixed on where he’d last spoken to his brother.

The book he’d been reading, the one that was so important that he hadn’t been at Liam’s side when he was shot, was left on the sidewalk, all covered in his big brother’s blood.

* * *

“Damn it, Jones!” the voice startled him awake.  The nightmare was already fading, but Killian didn’t need to hold on to the wisps of the dream to remember.  He could still smell Liam’s blood, hear his brother’s voice as it faded out, see the EKG line go flat, feel the cold skin of Liam’s fingers wrapped in his hand.  Taste the tears that tracked down his cheeks as his brother was wheeled away.

No, he didn’t need to remember the dream.

He experienced the memory every day.

Without his glasses on, Killian couldn’t read the time on his alarm clock, but there were only three neon numbers and it was still dark outside the dorm window.  Too early to be awake, then.

And no wonder his roommate was pissed.  He’d woken Scarlet up at least three times in the past week.  If he wasn’t careful, Will would request a room transfer just like all the others.

Killian sighed and rolled over, muttering some semblance of apologies to Scarlet’s snores.  He buried his face in his pillow, letting the cotton soak up the tears that had spilled down over his cheeks.  It had been five years.

Five years of disappointing his father.  Five years of dodging the man’s attempts to bring him back to England.  Five years of fighting with Brennan Jones on how he was wasting his life - how there was a perfectly good union job waiting for him at home.

Five years of learning what it meant to be an only child.

He’d rather be an orphan with an overly protective brother.

The knot in his throat tightened, choking him as he fought to keep silent.  Killian needed to get ahold of himself.  His professors were already worried about him.  His advisor had started hinting that maybe he should go home for the winter break instead of booking all of the lab hours he could.  If he showed up to physics class after a long weekend with bags under his eyes and a quart of coffee, someone was sure to notice.

But the thought of going back to sleep, of falling back into the nightmare… the memory of Liam’s death, it kept him too tense to even close his eyes.

Killian groaned and punched his pillow.  Better to get a few hours in working the numbers on his equation than to lie in his bed and try not to remember.  He rolled out of his bunk, half sprawled over the ladder before his feet caught on one of the rungs.  A few steps down and his bare feet hit the cold tile, the shock of it enough to drive out the last vestiges of sleep from his brain.

A few hours down in the common room letting the numbers dance around his head, then he could shower and head to class.

His professor _might_ not notice.

Killian stumbled out of the room, dodging the stoner from down the hall who was weaving back to _his_ room with a girl hanging off him.  Killian’s nose came up in distaste, unsettling his glasses as he tried not to breathe in too deeply.  He didn’t understand the appeal.

The scientist inside him wanted to figure out the nuances of college life outside of books and labs.  But that would require his thoughts to stray from the numbers.  They were already starting to dance - the parts of the equation that he had solidified years ago playing in the corner of his eye.  Sometimes it felt like if he could just look fast enough, the whole thing would be there - the finished equation that would allow him to bridge the gap between _now_ and _then_.  

Three hours later, he was down half a pad of paper and the pen he’d been scribbling with was out of ink.

And he was no closer to finding his way back to Liam.

Closing his eyes against the grit of staring at the numbers for too long, Killian dragged his hands down his face and looked for the clock.

Seven AM.

Just enough time to stand under the shower until he felt almost human again, grab some breakfast in the dining hall, and make it to class with no time to spare.  No time for idle chitchat with his classmates or concerned professors, he could slip in just before the start of the lecture and huddle in the back of the room.  

Hopefully unnoticed.

If the glare Dr. Hopper gave him when Killian slunk into the back of the room was any indication, he didn’t succeed.  Killian sighed as he slumped down in his desk, pulled out his notebook while trying to ignore the sounds of several expensive laptops booting up around him, and started preparing himself for the lecture he would be getting _after_ class.

Dr. Hopper didn’t disappoint.

“Killian, my boy,” he started, wiping his glasses with a handkerchief that had seen better days.  “I have to say, I’d hoped the long weekend would do you some good.  Did you do anything besides study?”

Killian wanted to roll his eyes.  He wanted to rail against the man for even suggesting that he take time away from learning everything he could about quantum mechanics in order to partake in some of the expected rituals of the college-aged adult.

But Dr. Hopper didn’t know _why_ Killian was so focused.  He didn’t know about Liam or the moral dilemmas Killian wrestled with every night.  He didn’t know _why_ Killian couldn’t stomach the idea of taking even a moment away from his studies for himself.

It had been five years.  Five years without his older brother’s sure hand and steady presence.  

Five years of barely treading water in the storm of the century, just hoping for an epiphany to buoy him up until the next wave of failure crashed over his head and tried to drown him.

So Killian did what he did best.  He deflected.

“Scarlet had some friends in our room this weekend.  There was a massive xBox tournament going on.  It was fun.”  Killian was careful with his words.  Nothing he said was a lie; he just wasn’t involved in any of it.

Hopper looked down his nose at him, the glasses on his face doing nothing to disguise the incredulous look.  “And did you partake in any of the games?”

Killian did his best not to glare.  Just as he had done all weekend over the second-hand desktop computer he had cobbled together from spare parts.  Every time one of Scarlet’s friends guffawed or hollered or knocked something over, it scattered the numbers in his head or distracted him from the homework he was trying to complete.

But the man sitting in front of him now wasn’t some college kid intent on sleeping and drinking his way through his undergraduate education.  This man was the one responsible for telling Storybrooke University whether or not Killian was able to handle the increased rigors of being a barely eighteen-year old junior in their prestigious science program.

In short, this man was responsible for Killian’s continued use of their facilities to find his way back to Liam.

So instead of glaring, or lying, or walking out of the lecture hall altogether, Killian scuffed the toe of his shoe against the linoleum flooring and obfuscated.  “Well, sir, there wasn’t really…”

“Yes or no, Mr. Jones?”

Killian couldn’t meet his eye.  “No, sir.”

Hopper nodded.  “No.  I thought not.  You need to get out of your own head sometimes, Killian.  It won’t do you any good to go to all this trouble of graduating only to burn out before you even make it into graduate school.  You have two weeks left until finals, and then I want you to go home.  You need-”

“But sir. I-”

“-No ‘buts’, Killian.  I want you to take some time off.  Go back home to England, take a break.  It will do you some good.  I promise.”  Hopper nodded with an air of finality.

Killian wanted to cry.  But he couldn’t.  He _wouldn’t_.  

“I _can’t_ go home, sir.”  He took a deep breath.  “If I do, my father won’t let me come back.”

Hopper looked up sharply, searching - Killian was sure - for the lie.  And oh, how Killian wished he were lying.  How he wished that he _could_ go home for a while and rest.  But there was nothing there for him except more stress than a month of uninterrupted lab time could ever cause him.

“Please, Dr. Hopper.  Please don’t make me go home.”

The man looked at him intently for another moment before he nodded.  “Very well, I won’t make you leave your dorm over break.  But I am going to think about this some more.  You’re one of our brightest students, Killian.  I just want to help.”

Killian’s knees almost buckled with the relief that coursed through him.  He could stay.  He could get to work on some of the practical applications of his equation, maybe even start cobbling together some of the parts he would need when it came down to building an apparatus for testing.

He could be one step closer to fixing everything.

* * *

Emma Swan was ready to pull her hair out.  Her hare-brained idea two years ago to just run away - instead of working two after-school jobs and eeking out enough grant and scholarship money so she’d only have to pay student loans _until_ she was retired and not after - was looking better and better.  She had a week left in the semester, six exams to prepare for, and her boss at the library had just told her that budget cuts had forced the facility to let go anyone who wasn’t there on official work-study.

Her _actual_ work-study job in the student center wasn’t enough to cover the plethora of books and supplies she would need for the spring semester.  Never mind frivolous things like being able to have a social life instead of spending every spare moment cooped up in her dorm room studying.  Or, God forbid, actually eating one meal that _wasn’t_ provided by the cafeteria’s meal plan.

When the alarm on her phone went off, Emma grimaced.  She had planned on being at least fifty pages further along in her manic quest to highlight anything important that she might need for the final she was studying for before heading off to her Intro to Physics class.  Grumbling under her breath, Emma shoved her books back into her bag and raced out of the library with her earbuds still in her ears.  She almost forgot the travel mug that had basically become an extension of her hand over the last few weeks.

But only almost.

Dancing her way around bookbags and students half-sprawled over every available surface, Emma made her way through the library and out onto the quad.  Snowflakes were falling softly through the air and, if she didn’t have to sprint across the entirety of the open area, Emma might have taken the time to appreciate them.  As it was, she was already late and the snow falling on the bricks would only make trudging across campus treacherous.

Emma just barely made it to class on time, her hair dripping melted snow and her mood less than jovial.  The professor paused for only a moment to spare her a nod and an appraising glance over his glasses before he began lecturing.

Ruby smirked at her before offering up her scarf so she could stop the mess from dripping all over her notebook.  Emma stuck her tongue out at her roommate, but accepted the soft wool and tried to slick some of her hair back to sop up the moisture.

Despite her best intentions, Emma found the lecture on heat engines and thermodynamics fading out as she tried her best to figure out how she was going to be able to afford to come back for the Spring semester.  Emma had no other options.  She knew if she took a semester off, fell into a minimum wage job and a tiny apartment and credit card debt, she’d never make it back.  And she had seen enough of the older kids who aged out of the foster system before her who never got out of that hole.

Emma refused to lie down and take what the system said was enough for her.

Before she knew it, the students near her were shuffling around, slamming laptop covers and shrugging back into winter jackets and hats.  Ruby was standing next to her desk, biting back a laugh at the perplexed look that Emma knew was painted across her face.  The class was over an hour long; how had she missed the _entire_ lecture?

“Don’t worry, Em.  You can borrow my notes,” Ruby whispered, the laughter finally breaking free.  “What had you so caught up?  Was it a boy?  Please tell me it was someone hot.”

Emma rolled her eyes.  As if she had time for anything other than work and studying.

“No, Ruby.  The library needed to let me go and I don’t know where I’m going to find another job in the middle of the year.  Think your grandmother would let me pick up some hours?”  Emma looked at her friend hopefully, but knew the question was moot.  Granny barely needed more than Ruby’s help at the diner, never mind how Emma would get to and from the restaurant in between classes and work.

Ruby was already shaking her head regretfully.  “I wish she would, but Granny already took someone on for break, and Ashley will be back just after New Years.  Sorry, Em.”

It was what she expected.  “Don’t worry about it; I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“Miss Swan?” the professor interrupted them.  “May I speak with you for a moment?”

Ruby gave her a sympathetic look before making a beeline for the classroom door.  “I’ll see you at dinner, Em!”

Emma glared at her retreating back before turning back to the professor.  “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hopper.  I swear I’ll catch up on the notes from today and it won’t happen again.”

Dr. Hopper shook his head and smiled gently.  “You’re not the first student to zone out during one of my lectures, Emma, and I’m sure you won’t be the last.  That’s not what I wanted to speak to you about.”

Emma blushed a little anyway.  “Okay?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Miss Lucas.  Ms. French had to let you go?”

Now her ears went red.  “Oh… umm, yes.  But it’s not what you think.  I’m not working for her on work-study, so it was just a budget thing.  I didn’t do anything wrong or anything.”  Emma wondered if he and the librarian were friends or something else.

Dr. Hopper smiled.  “Emma, why don’t you let me talk and then you can see if your assumptions of _my_ assumptions match up together?”

Emma dropped her gaze to her shoes, nodding silently.

“I brought up your need for a job because I find myself in need of a lab assistant for one of our upperclassmen.”  The professor paused, took his glasses off, and began to clean them.  “You would need to stay here over break if that’s an option, but if you two worked out, the position would be open for the next three years, through his graduate school requirements.”

Emma stared at the professor.  “I… I don’t really know anything about physics.  I mean, nothing beyond what you’ve taught, of course,” she tried to cover.

The professor laughed jovially.  “Of course.  I wouldn’t need you to have much of a working knowledge of physics.  My student will take care of that.  As long as you can follow directions and… well, I would consider it a bonus if you could manage to get him _out_ of the lab every once in awhile.  That’s more what I’m looking for, but he can’t know that.  Do you understand, Emma?  If he knows that I’m manipulating him to have a little bit of a social life, he’ll spend even _more_ time working.”

“So, what, you want me to be his… girlfriend?”  Emma was starting to get a sick feeling in her stomach.

“No!  No, of course not.  I would never… no, Miss Swan, nothing like that,” Dr. Hopper stuttered, his own face turning as flaming red as his hair.  “Just remind him to eat every once in awhile.  Maybe offer to go with him to the cafeteria so he has some accountability for his own life.  Try to get him out of the lab.  That’s all.”

“And I wouldn’t just be in his way?  Won’t he notice that I’m not exactly a physics prodigy?”  Emma couldn’t stop her mouth from moving.  She needed the money, it wasn’t like she could say no.

Dr. Hopper turned back to his desk, digging through the paperwork.  “You may not be, but he is.  In all likelihood, he won’t even take much notice of you.  He’s a bit… hyperfocused.   _Too_ focused.  But if he wants me to keep signing off on all the extracurricular hours he requests, he’ll accept your help.  I think you’ll be just what he needs to stay on the right track.”

Emma nodded slowly, trying to work through the nuances in her head.  She could barely force herself to remember to eat in the cafeteria on a regular schedule, preferring to pretend that the meal she had just skipped wasn’t important.  And now she was supposed to take on another person’s schedule atop her own?  All while pretending that she cared about physics enough to take a job in the department?  And what if they didn’t hit it off?  What if she agreed to this only to find herself out of a job come January?  If it was hard to find a new job now, it would be nearly impossible once the semester started up again.

But her student loans weren’t going to pay themselves after college and it would help if she wasn’t swimming in even _more_ debt when she graduated.

Dr. Hopper handed her a sheaf of papers with the title “lab assistant” on the front.  “Take some time to think about it.  You’ll find all the information in here - times you’ll be definitely needed and times that will be optional, as well as a list of your _official_ responsibilities.”

Emma smiled in spite of herself.  This man would make a horrible poker player.

“I’ll look it over and let you know.  Can I take a few days?”  Emma asked as she tucked the papers into her backpack.

“Of course.  And Miss Swan?”  Dr. Hopper smiled wryly, “Make sure that you _do_ get those notes from Miss Lucas at dinner.  Wouldn’t want you to do poorly on your final and then take the position, would we?”

Emma grimaced at the reminder that they were just about to approach ‘Morgue Hours’ on campus before the start of finals.  “Of course.  And I am sorry about today.”

Dr. Hopper waved off her apology as he turned back to his desk.  Emma took it for the dismissal it was and raced out the door and back into the snowstorm.

Where she promptly collided with a solid body and ended up sprawled across the cobblestones.

“Bloody hell!” a voice called out, and Emma opened her eyes to see the young man with glasses she had run into turn a pirouette with his arms in a windmill before he toppled over into the snowbank.

Emma clenched her eyes shut and groaned.  She had a feeling that, whoever he was, he was going to make her pay for that.  She pulled herself to her feet and ignored her half-open backpack in favor of trying to help him up.

The young man ignored her, scrambling to his feet with an apology on his lips and a distracted look in his eyes.  “Are you all right, lass?”

Emma started - both at the accent that rolled off his tongue and at the question itsel.  “Me?  ...I’m fine.  Are _you_ okay?”

“Fine, fine.  Just… if you’re truly all right, I’m a bit late.  If you don’t mind…?”  He sounded distracted and hadn’t taken his eyes off the door to the science building.

Emma certainly wasn’t going to keep him here to realize that _she_ had run into _him_ instead of the other way around.  “No problem,” she mumbled as he nodded and hurried off.

Shaking her head at the odd situation, and not willing to question if her luck was improving in the most roundabout way possible, Emma finally picked up her backpack and headed off to her next class.

Hours later, curled up in the corner of the dorm room that wasn’t filled with her roommate’s clutter, Emma was nodding off as she continued highlighting her history book.

“Emma Swan!” A high-pitched shout tore through the room and startled her badly enough to drag the highlighter diagonally across the entire page.

“What the hell, Ruby?!” she yelled back, her heart in her throat.

Ruby’s hands were on her hips as she glared up to where Emma was squashed into the corner of her lofted bed.  “Dinner was _hours_ ago.  You were supposed to meet me.  Aren’t you hungry?”

Emma’s stomach growled in answer and her head swiveled around to the alarm clock on top of her wardrobe.  9:30PM flashed back at her.  She hung her head.  The cafeteria was long closed by now.

She hadn’t even formulated an excuse when Ruby started rummaging through the bottom drawer of Emma’s desk.  There was a sneer on her face at the choices - Easy Mac, Ramen, or questionably old beef jerky.  “Come on, Granny will feed you.  Let’s go.”

There wasn’t an inch of wiggle room in the command, but Emma started to sputter anyway.  “Ruby, that’s not… I can’t… I have to…”

“Don’t want to hear it, Em.”  Ruby straightened up and pulled Emma’s jacket from the desk chair.  “Get down here.  I already called Granny when you stood me up.  She’s on her way to pick us up.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but shut the book on her lap and started to climb down the ladder.

“So what did Hopper want to talk to you about, anyway?” Ruby asked as they inhaled Granny’s lasagna later that evening.

“Job,” Emma mumbled around a mouthful of pasta.  “Assistant.”

Granny’s lasagna really shouldn’t be interrupted by more than one-word answers.

When she had finally finished her second helping of dinner, she explained further.  Ruby, of course, had the important questions.

“An upperclassman?  Is he hot?  What kind of parties do you think he can get us into?”

Emma was impressed when her eyes didn’t actually roll out of her skull.  “Not important, Ruby.  Did you hear what Hopper _really_ wants me to do?”

“Emma.  These are absolutely important questions.”  Ruby leaned forward as if she could impart her wisdom more fully with eye contact.

Emma sighed.  “I didn’t meet him.  And going by how Dr. Hopper described him, I don’t think he’s ever even seen the inside of a college party, never mind has the sway for freshman invites.”

Ruby pouted.  “But you are going to take the job?”

“I don’t really have any choice, do I?”

 


	2. To Plant and to Pluck

 

 **_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/164826601467/emma-stared-at-his-hand-like-it-would-reach-out)!_**

* * *

* * *

“Professor, no!  I don’t need an assistant.  And certainly not some freshman who probably doesn’t know the difference between and photon and a… a proton!”  Killian balked, his hands curling into fists automatically.  “Please, Dr. Hopper, she’s just going to slow me down.”

“That might not be a bad thing, my boy.  And I’ve asked you before to call me Archie when we’re not in the classroom.”  Archie looked over the rims of his glasses and Killian met his gaze with a glare of his own.

“Yes, sir,” he muttered sullenly.

“The fact of the matter is, Killian, that you need to slow down.  Consider it a favor to me, taking her on.  She’s a criminal justice major and she’s already enrolled in Physics 102.  If you can help her understand any of this better, then it will make my life easier.”  The professor paused.  “And I don’t think I have to remind you that you are only allowed five hours a week in the labs to work on your project unless I allow you more.”

Killian’s shoulders slumped.  The bags under his eyes from his latest batch of nightmares weren’t going to do anything to help convince Hopper that he didn’t need the help.  And really, how bad could it be?  She wasn’t a pure science major.  Surely this lass would be no more interested in helping him than he was in her help.

“She needs the job to stay in school, Killian.  You understand how much this school can mean to some people, don’t you?”

He could feel the muscle in his jaw twitching at _that_ low blow.  “Fine.  But if she breaks anything or gets in my way…”

“I will be the first to find her someplace else to occupy her time.  I don’t want to impede your work.  I want to improve it.”

Killian closed his eyes and tried not to imagine the horror he was about to agree to.  “And you’ll approve the extra hours I requested?”

“Yes.   _And_ if you make it through the semester with her working with you, I will also approve the practical materials you need to start building your project next year.”

Just the mention of the possibility of starting construction on the capsule he would need in order to get back to Liam had him nodding his acquiescence.  He could handle a freshman sitting pretty in the corner of the lab if it meant he could start some physical work within the year - on top of the theoretical work he spent every free moment on.   _Bloody hell_ , Killian thought, he’d have volunteered to host Hopper’s _entire_ 102 class if it meant he could finally get to practical work.

Regardless of the incentives, he knew how trying this was going to be.  Killian pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses.  “When does she start?” he breathed out, already feeling the headache building.

He missed the beginning of Archie’s satisfied grin as he shut his eyes as if he could block out the inevitable answer.

“Right after finals are over.”  Dr. Hopper was laughing under his breath.  Killian resisted the urge to groan out loud.  “Turns out that Miss Swan isn’t going home for break either.  You’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other with all the hours you’ve requested over Christmas.”

Killian’s eyes opened wide and he was finally graced with the beaming look his professor had adopted.

He couldn’t help it; he rolled his eyes.

“Here’s your approval for the lab hours over break.  You’ll have to share with Miss Blanchard’s AP Physics field trips once a week when the high school is in session while we’re out.  And Killian?”  Killian squeezed his eyes shut, dreading what _else_ Dr. Hopper was going to demand of him.

Archie waited until he looked up and met his gaze.  “Try to do something fun over break, all right?  Something _outside_ of the lab?  Something… I don’t know, something exciting.”

“Yes, sir,” Killian muttered, resolutely ignoring the defiant part of him that already planned to refuse that request.

“Very well, my boy.  I’ll see you tomorrow for your final, then.  Try to get some sleep; you still look tired.”

Killian took off before Hopper could come up with something else that he would end up ignoring.  On his way out the door, a blonde woman - he thought she might be the same one who had knocked him off his feet during the snowstorm - looked up from where she sat opposite the classroom.  Her green eyes flashed with recognition and then she rose to her feet.  She never broke eye contact, and Killian gulped as his hand rose to scratch behind his ear.

“I… I suppose I owe you a better apology for the other day, lass.  Right poor form on my part to rush off like I did after I knocked you down.  My brother would have my…” The words choked Killian as he realized what he had said.  Where his memories were traipsing off to.  The muscles in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth against the onslaught.

Killian hadn’t realized his eyes were closed until the touch of a hand on his arm startled him.

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly.

His gaze was locked on her hand, amazed at how quickly the gentle touch had brought him back from the streets of Ireland to their campus in Maine.

She seemed to realize what she was doing and snatched back her arm with a mumbled apology of her own.

Killian felt the loss immediately, but shook his head as she seemed to shrink in on herself with arms crossed and defense written across her face.

He knew the feeling.

“I… erm… I’m fine.  And you?  After the other day?”

She nodded, and looked like she was about to say something when Archie called out from inside the room.

“Mr. Jones?  Are you still out there?”

Killian’s eyes widened.  “You never saw me!” he hissed before sprinting down the hallway.

And that should have been the end of it.  He had never allowed himself to ponder the idea of fate or kismet or whatever people told themselves to make sense of how the world worked.  If Killian thought like that, he’d never be able to go back in time to save Liam - the ethics and morals of it were already shady enough without believing that there was a plan already in place for all of them.

So what if he’d seen her twice and been drawn to her both times?  So what if she was the first girl… woman that he’d ever looked twice at.  He didn’t even know her _name_ , so what did it matter if her golden hair and her emerald eyes were seared into his brain, even hours later?

Right?

Killian rolled over on his bunk so his back was to the room, pounding at the pillow until it conformed to his liking, and let the numbers fly around his head.  There was something off with the newest part of his equations, something that was making the earlier numbers look yellow as they flitted about.  He took a deep breath and tried to focus, but the problem stayed just out of sight.

“Jones!”  Scarlet yelled as he barreled into the room, and Killian sighed as the numbers faded away.  All that was left were the chicken scratches in his notebook.

“What?!”  He rolled over again, glaring down at Will until he saw the girl hanging off his arm.  “Apologies, lass, I shouldn’t have shouted.”

Killian looked over to where Will was grinning like a maniac and rolled his eyes.  “At you, anyway.  What do you want, Scarlet?”

“Ana and I are going down to the student center to see Robin and John play.  Fancy comin’ along?”  Will didn’t even wait for an answer before he turned to bury his nose in Ana’s neck, the resulting giggles that came from her grating on Killian’s ears.

“I don’t think so, mate,” Killian said when Will finally looked up.  “I’ve got a lot of studying to do, still.  Thanks, though.”

His roommate shrugged.  “Your loss, mate.  Should be a good show.  Better than your impersonation of a hermit, anyway.”

Killian smirked at the dig, but then Archie’s words echoed in his ears.   _Try to do something fun… something exciting._  He was a man of his word.  Liam had instilled that into Killian even if his father hadn’t.  If he went to Robin’s show, then at least he could honestly tell Dr. Hopper after break that he had done _something_ outside of the physics lab.

“Hold up.  Give me five minutes to change and I’ll go with you.”

Scarlet grinned, and Ana smiled coquettishly.  “Good on ya, Jones.  We’ll meet you in the common room, then.”

Killian nodded and heaved himself out of his loft as the door shut behind them.  Some fresh deodorant, a clean shirt, and a brush over his face to make sure his scruff hadn’t turned into all-out beard in the last few days, and he was ready.

And already wishing he’d never said anything.

The walk across campus to the student center was frigid and a little bit eerie.  Holed up as often as he was in his room, Killian hadn’t been able to fully appreciate just how desolate the campus got when the underclassmen were cramming for exams.  There were a few others making their way towards the show or to the cafeteria for dinner, but the snow-covered quad was otherwise empty.  

Killian sighed as he trudged along behind Will and Ana, idly wondering how the two managed to walk while wrapped up in one another like they were.  Surely their altered combined center of gravity would make it nearly impossible to stay upright.

He had to bat away the numbers that began to dance in his vision, trying to pull him into a headspace that would likely leave Killian standing dumbfounded in the middle of the quad.

“Jones!” Will called out without even turning around.  “You comin’ or not?”

Killian smirked.  His roommate could be a bloody prat sometimes, but other times they were one hell of a pair.

The auditorium was dark already, the only illumination coming from the stage where Robin and the Merry Men were idly plucking at guitar strings or adjusting microphones.  The row that Ana chose was mostly full, leaving Killian with only a single seat to his right before the aisle. It was unlikely that anyone would sit next to him now, and his shoulders slumped a little in relief.  There were already more people than he was comfortable sharing space with and he’d take the reprieve where he could.

Will smacked him on the arm and grinned when Killian rolled his eyes.  “You’ll like it, mate.  I’m tellin’ ya.”

Killian nodded and settled further into the cushioned seat.  He let the numbers fly untended, half his awareness on his surroundings and the other on potential breakthroughs.  He had just perked up on a possibility when-

“Is this seat… you _again_?”

Killian startled badly before he locked gazes with the same emerald eyes that had haunted him all afternoon as he tried to work.

“Are you following me?” he blurted out, then cringed.

The blonde rolled her eyes and folded herself into the seat beside him.  Killian expected to feel uncomfortable.  He expected to feel confined and antsy.

It felt like she had been by his side for years.

“Hardly.  I don’t even know your name, Idiot,” she muttered, already lighting up her phone screen and ignoring him.

“Killian Jones, at your service, milady.”  Killian cringed again, mentally smacking himself upside the head even as he extended his hand in greeting.  What was he going to do next, kiss her knuckles and offer her his sword?

“I’m Emma,” she replied, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Emma.”  Her name rolled of his tongue smoothly, and he was caught by the urge to say it again.  Their fingers intertwined and the bolt of electricity that sparked up his arm took him by surprise.  Killian stared down at their hands, looking for the catalyst that had nearly made him jump.  There was nothing for him to find, however, and Emma pulled her hand back far too quickly for his liking.

 _Bloody hell, mate_ , he chastised himself, _what is wrong with you?_

Killian smiled politely to hide the unwelcome sting of rejection and reminded himself, again, that he barely knew the woman sitting next to him.  He turned back to the stage, tugging off his glasses to clean them as a distraction, determined to forget about her.

“Are they any good?” Emma asked, jutting her chin out towards Robin’s band.  “I’ve seen flyers for their shows before, but I really just needed a break from studying.”

Killian perked up at the chance to talk to her for longer.   _Don’t muck this up_ , he begged himself.  “Aye, they’re pretty good.  I’ve been drag… err… coming to their shows for a few years now, since they got together freshman year.  Robin was my first roommate, before I got stuck with this prat.”

He nodded in Will’s general direction, ignoring the elbow to his ribs that caused the comment.

“Will Scarlet, love, pleasure to make your acquaintance.  I’d love to get to know you even better, though.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but shook his hand as well.  As Will leaned over to brush a kiss to her knuckles, Killian leaned in and hissed, “Aren’t you here with a woman already, _mate_?”

Will pulled back with a ‘cat that ate the canary’ grin and threw his arm around the scowling Ana’s shoulders.  “Just bein’ friendly, Jones.  Should try it some time.”

Killian was saved from trying to make a witty retort when Robin’s voice came over the speakers.  “Hey there, everyone.  Glad to see the books haven’t sucked out your souls just yet.”

The laughter that rippled through the small crowd seemed to break the hold Emma had over his thoughts, and Killian settled in for the show.

* * *

Emma adjusted the beanie that was dangerously high on her forehead, then checked that the straps of her backpack weren’t going to slip off her shoulders.  She fastened one more button on her shirt, then released it.

She ignored the smirk on Ruby’s face as she checked her reflection in the mirror one more time.

“Nervous for your first day on the job?” Ruby asked, the smirk morphing into a wolfish grin as Emma glared through the mirror.

She ripped the beanie off her head, checking inside of it to see what was making her so uncomfortable.  Emma expected to see a pin or a loose thread.

There was nothing there.

“Not nervous.  Just…” Emma thought hard about how to phrase what she was feeling.  “Concerned.  I need this to work, and if this junior doesn’t fall for it, I’m out of a job and out of a college experience.”

Emma looked up, then repeated, “I need this to work.”

Ruby sidled up to her, hip-checking Emma to the side until they shared the mirror.  “Emma, he’s going to be falling all over himself for you.  You know that, right?  Unless he’s blind.  Or gay.  And then you may have your work cut out for you.”

Emma glared again.  “This isn’t… he’s an upperclassman.  I’m just a freshman.  He’s not going to care what I look like.”

“And yet, you’re going to be late because you’re still standing in front of the mirror.”

Emma’s eyes widened, and she looked down at her watch.  Ruby was right; she was going to be late.  She took off out of the bathroom, jamming her hat back over her ears and brushing the wayward strands of hair out of her face.

“Knock his socks off, Em!” Ruby’s voice echoed down the hall and was answered by the slam of the hallway door.

It wasn’t like Emma hadn’t been thinking about just that.  It had been on her mind constantly since she’d rushed into Dr. Hopper’s classroom to agree to take the job before one of the advanced classes started their final.  She remembered the way the professor had flushed that first day when she’d insinuated he wanted her to seduce this science geek, but how else did he expect her to get the guy out of the lab without telling him what was up?

Emma Swan didn’t _do_ people.  

She practically flew across campus to the science building, searching the room numbers in the physics hallway for the one she’d hastily scribbled down on a scrap of paper and jammed in her pocket the night before.  Dr. Hopper had assured her that he would meet her there to make the introductions, but that he had to run right afterwards for a meeting at the local high school.

Emma hoped he’d still be there.

Finally coming across the correct room, Emma tried the door handle and was surprised to find it unlocked.  She would freely admit that she didn’t pay much attention in science, but she thought that with equipment as expensive as what was housed here, the labs would all be locked when not in use.  Hesitantly, she poked her head inside, wondering if she should wait for Dr. Hopper before entering the lab.  She had thought she was late, but maybe she wrote the time down wrong, or maybe she got the room number wrong, or maybe…

Killian Jones, the guy she kept running into all over campus, was hunched over one of the lab benches.  His hair was all in disarray, a pencil tucked behind one ear even as he held another one over the notebook he was scribbling in.  He didn’t even look up as she walked in and shut the door behind her.  But Emma did notice something curious.  His left hand was twitching at the corner of his scribblings; it almost looked as if he was flicking through pages of a book, but the pads of his fingers never touched the paper he was writing on.

“Are you working for Dr. Hopper, too?” Emma asked, grimacing a little when Killian jumped in his seat.

His startled gaze locked on hers quickly, and she smiled sheepishly.  Killian continued to stare at her for just a moment too long, and Emma started to squirm under the scrutiny.

And then, as if a switch were flipped in his head, he smiled back at her.  “Well, now I know you’re following me, lass.  Should I be concerned?”

“Oh yeah,” she returned.  “You should start yelling for campus security any moment now.”

Killian’s laugh was deep and sent a shiver through her.  He seemed like someone she could genuinely get used to hanging around.  But, she reasoned, he was probably waiting for Dr. Hopper, too, and would be heading off to his own upperclassman to herd out of the lab.

He sobered up a minute later, but there was still a sparkle in his eyes and a twitch at the corner of his mouth.  “So what can I help you with, Emma?”

“Oh, nothing, I suppose.  I’m waiting for Dr. Hopper.  I guess you are, too?” she asked, looking towards the door.  “I thought I was late.”

Emma turned back to Killian just in time to see a strange look come across his features.  He had just opened his mouth to speak when the door opened behind her and Dr. Hopper came rushing in.

“Emma, I’m so sorry I’m late.  I had a few last minute projects show up in my inbox and I had to… oh, I see you’ve met already.  Good, good.”  He smiled happily, and turned to go.  At the last second he turned back.  “If you don’t mind, I’ll just leave you both to get started and figure out your schedules for the next few weeks?”

Emma stood, transfixed and facing the door, long after the professor had left.  She finally was broken out of her shock by Killian clearing his throat behind her.

“Erm, well, yes.  I suppose I should introduce myself properly, lass.  Killian Jones, physics major in… err… reluctant need of a lab assistant.”  Killian stood up and stuck out his hand for her to shake.

Emma stared at his hand like it would reach out and bite her.  “I think there’s been some mistake.  Dr. Hopper assigned me to a junior.”

“Aye,” he nodded, still holding his hand out.  He shook it a little, and Emma rolled her eyes before reaching out to shake it.  To her surprise, Killian tugged her towards him a little bit, and then laid a light kiss on her knuckles.

She snatched her hand away, avoiding the impulse to wipe it on her jeans.  “Who _does_ things like that?” Emma snarked.

“My brother,” Killian replied, and it sounded sad.

Her features softened, and she tried to make him smile again.  “So you thought playing the gentleman now would be a good start?”

“Oh lass,” he smirked, and Emma tried not to think too deeply about the flutter in her belly that came from it.  “I’m always a gentleman.”

“Right,” Emma drew out the word as she looked around the lab.  “Gentleman or not, I’m looking for an upperclassman to… umm… assist.  You can’t be that much older than me, if you aren’t younger!”

Killian laughed derisively.  

“Our ages aside, lass, a junior I am.  And one who needs to get to work.  So if you don’t mind?”  He gestured towards the other side of the lab table.  “If you’re serious about helping, then I need you to log into the computer.  If not, then there’s a desk over there that you can sit at and be out of my way.”

Emma bristled, then dropped her bookbag under the table and booted up the computer.  “Just tell me what to do.”

* * *

Emma was a quick study, Killian decided as he looked over the output from his latest equation.  He couldn’t deny that the work went much faster with her there to type in the numbers and monitor the simulations in the computer program for him.  Her work left his hands free to scribble in the margins of his notebook or to fiddle with the prototype machine he was starting to craft out of scrap materials.  That work would have to be farmed out to engineers once Archie approved him to build a full-scale model, but having Emma working with him was moving the timeline to completion along nicely.

He might even be able to get a set of blueprints to Archie before the end of this semester rather than in the fall.  Killian was quietly pleased with how the arrangement had worked out - if only Emma didn’t insist on distracting him every few hours.

Throughout the entirety of the winter break, Killian had to deal with Emma’s penchant to lag in efficiency whenever she started to get hungry.  He found, reluctantly, that the quickest way to get her back up to his level of productivity was to follow her to the cafeteria - since she refused to go by herself - and try to hurry her along through her meal.

And yet, they had the same argument every time Emma started to get hungry.

“Lass, why don’t you run to the cafeteria and grab something to eat?” He asked that afternoon when Emma started gnawing on her pen cap and typing in the codes with one finger.

She shrugged, her point-and-stab typing pausing while she swung around to look at him.  “I’ve got another hour in here with you.  It will still be open when we’re done.”

“Really, Emma, I’ve got this under control,” he cajoled, trying - just once - to get her to go on her own.

But, as he expected, she just shook her head and turned back to the computer screen.  “Don’t worry about it, Killian.  If I go now, I’ll have to eat by myself and everyone will stare.  Let’s just get back to work.”

A moment later, Emma’s stomach growled and Killian clenched his eyes shut.  His chin dropped to his chest and he gave in to the inevitable.

“If I go with you, will you please get something to eat?” Even to Killian’s ears, he sounded like he was being led to the gallows.

But, just like every other time, Emma beamed at him and jumped from the stool to grab her coat.  “Let’s go, Jones!  There’s a grilled cheese with my name on it.”

The smells from the cafeteria hit his nose before they were fully inside and Killian realized he hadn’t eaten since breakfast… almost eight hours ago.  He may as well make use of his meal card while he was here - then he could stick around the lab for a few extra hours without having to worry about dinner.  They swiped their meal cards at the turnstile and then separated to find their meals.

Killian eyed Emma to make sure that she was in line for food before he headed over to the sandwich bar to see if something caught his eye.  He chose a tuna-and-something panini that looked the most appetizing and moved to the salad bar before he met up with Emma at a bar-style table in the corner of the eating area.

Emma hopped up onto one of the stools and shoved a plate of fries in his direction.  “Eat these, they gave me both and I don’t want them,” she said around a mouthful of onion ring.  

The next thing he knew, Emma’s eyes were watering and she was slurping down her drink. “Hot,” she breathed out with a pained look.  He couldn’t keep from huffing out a laugh under his breath.

Killian eyed the french fries and could almost picture the amount of time he was going to waste shoving them in his mouth, but he knew they’d be eaten before they left.

What seemed to be an eternity later, Killian followed Emma back to their shared lab and the computer results that awaited them.  He watched as her hips swayed from side to side.  Will, he knew, would be salivating all over Emma at the way she moved, but Killian was more cautiously intrigued.  She was stunning - he’d have to be blind not to see that - but that wasn’t what was foremost in his mind when Killian thought of her.

No, it was the way she seemed intent to learn so that she could _actually_ help him, rather than just putting in her hours.  It was the way she asked questions - only once - and remembered the answers.  It was the way she seemed to care that he should succeed.

And Killian hadn’t even told her the real reason he was trying to manipulate time.  He hadn’t told her anything about Liam.

He was starting to think that he should.

But not today.  Just the thought of Liam’s death made the food in Killian’s belly threaten a reappearance.  He had to swallow hard to make sure that visions of blood and pale skin didn’t stop his footsteps and leave him lost in the past, still standing in the middle of the science building’s hallway.  He couldn’t-

“Killian?  Are you coming?”  Emma looked back from where she was unlocking the lab’s door.

“Aye, lass, sorry.  I’m with you.”

No, he wouldn’t tell Emma about Liam today.

 _But soon_ , he promised when she smiled over the desktop at him.  Soon.  She deserved to know what she was getting herself into.

What _he_ was getting them _both_ into.

Killian returned her smile, wondering if it looked as forced as it felt, but unable to shake the whispering voice in his head - _I’m waiting, little brother.  Why haven’t you saved me yet?_

He had no answer for Liam.

Or for himself.

Killian sighed, then stepped into the lab with the grim reason for creating his machine nipping at his heels.

Once upon a time, he had worked on this project for fun.  He could still remember the first time he heard of string theory, the way it had taken hold in his head and wouldn’t let go.  He could still remember his eighth birthday when Liam had gotten him a huge whiteboard and a whole tub of dry erase markers.  He could still remember how Brennan had sneered at the gift, but Killian had been ecstatic.  One of his happiest days was that birthday - he and Liam had spent the afternoon putting the easel together, then writing out “ _ **KILLIAN’S THEORY**_ ” in big block letters at the top.

That whiteboard had seen him through most of his awkward teenage years.  It had seen him through the bullies who couldn’t stand him showing them up in class and the girls who wouldn’t give him the time of day.  It had been a sense of stability when Liam was working and Brennan was downstairs, drunk as usual.

It had been the only source of comfort when he was mourning his brother.

He’d had to leave the whiteboard behind, of course, but there was another in the corner of this lab.  The penmanship hadn’t gotten much better with time, but the big block letters at the top spelled out the same - even if they weren’t permanently etched into the board like the one back in England.  It was here that Killian moved now, the familiar ritual of scrubbing out numbers that had become warped with new aspects of his theory and listening to the squeak of the marker as new ones took their place.

“This result came back negative.  What do you want me to change?” Emma asked, her voice breaking him free of the numbers’ dance.

“Try increasing the intensity while decreasing the frequency.  See what that does,” he replied, still distracted.

Behind him, Killian heard the clack of keys as Emma input the new parameters.  With the numbers taken care of, he turned his attention to the model he was working on.  He theorized that a round exoskeleton would be more conducive to time-flight, or at least to the cessation of flight when he got back in time.  He would need to use strong materials - a combination of carbon fiber and titanium for the actual chassis, carbide and silicon for the computer parts, polycarbonate-

“Killian?” Emma was standing next to him, her hand on his shoulder.  “I’ve been calling you.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, the feel of her this close to him stealing the very words from his lips.  “Err… umm… right.  What?”

Emma smiled; it was a little thing, just barely quirking up the corners of her mouth, but it brightened his day regardless.

“It’s after nine, Jones.  Time to go.”

He nodded with a put-out sigh.  For all he was trying to mold it to his will, it seemed that Killian never had enough time.


	3. To Kill and to Heal

 

**_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/165086641757/he-was-looking-at-an-empty-whiteboard-his-eyes)!_**

* * *

* * *

"Swan, come here for a moment."

Emma rolled her eyes, but checked that the simulation was still running before she headed over to where Killian was… what _was_ he doing? He had both hands wrapped around the model he was tinkering with, some sort of contraption she knew had to do with his thesis project, and now his nose was squashed against the side. As she approached, Emma could see that he was alternating between going cross-eyed and then squeezing one eye then the other shut as he focused over the top of his glasses.

"What," Emma barked a short laugh before beginning again. "What are you _doing_?"

"What does it look like?" he grumbled around the miniscule screwdriver that was sticking out of his mouth.

"It looks like you're about to make out with your model."

Killian's head shot up so fast - the look on his face one of startled embarrassment - that the pieces of the model fell apart like a deck of cards crumbling. The tips of his ears turned red as his lips pitched downward in a frown. He looked like a child who hadn't found a puppy under the tree on Christmas morning.

"I _was_ trying to line up the two domes of the module without losing the interface that would connect with the base computers. For some reason, it just won't work."

"...Right," she mumbled, not having the first idea as to what he was talking about. "Well, whatever it is you're building, did you need me for something?"

Killian looked up at her, perplexed. "Whatever it is I'm… Swan, do you not know what it is we're working on?"

Emma refused to admit that she liked the way 'we're' sounded. This was a job and nothing else. She shrugged. "Physics… an experiment?" she questioned.

There was a gleam in Killian's eyes that Emma hadn't seen before. "Not just an experiment, lass. If this succeeds, if I can just get everything to go green, I'll be able to send someone back in time. _I'll_ be able to go back through time."

"Time travel?!" she exclaimed incredulously. "You're talking like, _Quantum Leap_? Or _Timeless_? You want to be the next _Doctor Who_ , is that it?"

Killian's face fell and she saw the hurt in his eyes that he quickly masked.

"This isn't some Hollywood writer's nonsensical idea of science fiction," Killian seethed as he practically hissed at her. "This is real science. And it can save lives some day when it works. If you don't believe that, if you don't _care_ about that, then you can go."

He turned his back to her, and Emma's jaw dropped. She didn't quite know what to do. Or how to react. On the one hand, her knowledge of physics went so far as the B-minus she scraped by with after Dr. Hopper's exam in December. But on the other hand, there was nothing in the world that suggested to her that time travel wasn't exactly what Killian had yelled at her for believing - that it was fanciful science fiction.

Time travel?

If she didn't know better, Emma would swear that he was joking. But she'd seen that look in his eyes before, on countless kids in countless group homes when they swore up and down that the _next_ family would be the one to keep them. She wouldn't admit to anyone - not even herself - that she'd seen that look in the mirror more than a time or two. No one had ever taken a chance on her, and eventually she'd stopped believing in a forever family. The look in her eyes had faded away.

But it didn't change what she had seen in Killian's fierce stare just now. Whether or not what he was saying was true, Killian believed that it was and no one was going to tell him differently.

So Emma better get on board if she wanted to keep her job.

"What did you need me to come over here for?" she asked again, determined to put her skepticism on the back burner - for now.

Killian turned around, his shocked gaze meeting her own.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily, Jones. Now tell me what to do or I'm going back to getting paid to stare at numbers scrolling across a computer screen and pretending that I'm not playing _Candy Crush_ in between beeps." Emma raised an eyebrow and resisted the urge to put her hands on her hips.

"You're playing _Pet Rescue Saga_ and don't think I'm not aware," he groused, but the smile was back in his eyes - if not yet on his face. "I need you to hold the two halves of this together so that the little box right there is suspended between the two of them right on the notches."

Emma slipped her fingers between his, taking control of the model and trying to hold it steady as he let it go. She could see the pieces that were supposed to fit together, where one ended and the other began, but nothing seemed to line up just right the way Killian had it. When he turned his back to grab a roll of clear bonding tape, Emma rotated one of the halves of the dome just a tiny bit so that the box clicked into a different notch.

Killian turned back around and promptly dropped the roll of tape.

"What did you do?" he cried out, staring at the model with his jaw dropped.

"Um, it looked like it fit better this way," Emma mumbled, already moving to slide the pieces back the way he had them.

"No!" Killian shouted, grabbing her hands and holding them steady. "No, that makes it green. Don't move."

Emma stared at the way their hands intertwined, the warmth of his palms covering the chill of her own. She smiled in spite of herself, relishing the feel and trying her hardest to refrain from squeezing his fingers between hers.

_What are you_ doing, _Emma_? she berated herself even as she held the pieces together. She didn't do this. She _couldn't_ do this. Not now; not with him.

Not with anyone ever again if Emma had her say.

_Look out for yourself and no one gets hurt_ , she reminded herself as Killian wound the tape around the edges of the model pieces. It wasn't the best of mottos, Emma knew all too well, but it was better than trusting the wrong guy ever again.

"Emma? Lass, you can let go now." She looked up with a start, not expecting to hear Killian's voice in her ear, to be able to smell the deodorant he was wearing, to feel the heat of him too close to her. Far too close.

Not close enough.

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, forcing everything back under control, and gingerly dropped the model into Killian's hands.

To avoid giving herself time to settle into his nearness, Emma retreated back behind the desk and focused on the computer program. The simulation that she had left behind when Killian called her over was still running, the numbers spewing across the screen faster than she could process. Regardless, she watched intently, trying to make sense of everything that was happening - on the screen and in her head.

Emma snuck a glance over the monitor furtively, trying to gauge where Killian's thoughts were, if he had been affected as she had by the exchange.

He was staring back at her, his head cocked just a little bit to the side as he regarded her. Emma felt out of sorts under the scrutiny - not uncomfortable with his gaze on her, just a little lost in how normal it felt, in how much she wanted him to keep looking at her like that. To _see_ her.

Emma tore those thoughts to shreds and stomped on them for good measure.

Killian was thankfully oblivious to her mental turmoil, still looking at her with a soft expression on his face. She had to get him to stop. Otherwise she might get used to the idea. And then she saw her opening. Lost as he was in his gaze, the model was still resting in his hands, but only barely.

"Careful Jones, you don't want that to break after all my hard work," she chided.

It was enough to break whatever spell had fallen over them.

" _Your_ hard work?" he asked incredulously. "I hardly think that holding two pieces of plastic together constitutes hard work."

The gleam in Killian's eye betrayed the censure in his voice.

Emma smiled, glad to be back on stable footing. "Oh yeah? Then take off that tape and put it together yourself, if you're so confident."

"I could," he retorted, unconvincingly. "But that would limit our productivity. Wouldn't want Dr. Hopper to think that we were slacking."

Emma rolled her eyes.

They worked together in a comfortable silence - he with the inner workings of a motherboard and she with, well, level 274 of _Pet Rescue_ \- until the computer beeped again. Emma sighed when the simulation came back a fail, putting her phone down in order to input the next line of variables into the main feed. She looked up from the notebook filled with Killian's chicken scratch, expecting to see him fiddling with a soldering iron and the circuits he needed.

He was looking at an empty whiteboard, his eyes darting back and forth as if he were watching fireflies dance around him. Emma watched for another moment, not quite sure what was going on. Then Killian's hands began to raise and he started to swat at the air, getting more agitated as he did so.

The soldering iron Emma thought he would be working with was balanced precariously on the workbench, the tip of it dangerously close to his sleeve.

"Killian?" she called softly, not wanting to startle him.

He didn't respond.

She tried again, a little louder this time. "Hey, Jones?"

Nothing.

Starting to get worried, Emma stood from the workstation and started to cross the room. "You with me, Doctor Who?"

Killian still didn't break from whatever had him captivated, his head starting to turn from side to side to follow his frantic gaze.

"Hey!" she reached out to snag the handle of the iron before it could fall, but at the last moment, Killian whipped around.

His head knocked into Emma's, causing her to stumble and reach out to break her fall. Her fingers snagged in the electrical cord and the soldering iron toppled off the edge.

Right onto Killian's thigh.

The howl of pain echoed through the lab and caused Emma's ears to ring. She ignored the way her stomach clenched sickeningly even as she yanked the cord from the wall and tossed the iron in the sink. Killian lurched off the lab stool, bent nearly in half as both hands gripped hard at his leg. He was staggering drunkenly around the room, quiet sounds of distress following him and stabbing at Emma in ways she couldn't - didn't want to - examine.

"Sit down!" she called. "Killian, stop. Let me see."

"No," he managed to croak out. "It's… fine."

His breathing was labored, and when Emma finally caught up to him and wrapped her fingers around his bicep, there were minute tremors racing down his arm.

"It's _not_ fine, you idiot," Emma hissed. "You're hurt."

It was surprisingly easy to manhandle him into an office chair, using her grip on his upper arm to settle him into the cushioning. "Stay," Emma commanded, her finger pointing at him until he nodded reluctantly.

Emma raced over to the double sink, glaring at the soldering iron that she threw into one basin while she ran a rag under cold water pouring into the other. She spoke over her shoulder the whole time, trying to make sure Killian didn't pass out or something equally drastic.

Emma's imagination ran a little rampant when she was stressed.

"I promise you, lass. It's fine," he tried again, pausing every few words to gasp in a breath before he continued.

"I'm sure," she replied matter-of-factly, but she wasn't agreeing with his judgment. "You'll forgive me if I take a look anyway."

"I will?" he tried to joke through clenched teeth.

Emma didn't dignify him with a response. She knelt next to his knee, prying his hands away from his leg and slapping the cold cloth into one. When she finally saw where the iron had come in contact with him, it didn't look too bad at first glance. There was a blackened line zigzagging across the denim, a small hole at the end. Without really thinking about it, Emma stuck her nails into the hole and tugged - intent on tearing the hole further to see how badly the skin was burned underneath.

If Emma thought that his cry of pain earlier was bad, the agonized yell that erupted from him now chilled her to her core.

He jumped from the chair, tripped over his feet, and ended up sprawled across the floor.

"Killian?" she cried, reaching out to grasp his calf to steady them both.

He recoiled sharply with another cry, this one sounding fearful rather than pained. Emma jumped backwards, landing on her butt and smacking her head against the lab table behind her.

"I won't hurt you again," she whispered, fighting every urge to take off at a sprint towards the safety of her dorm room.

Slowly, with both hands in front of her to telegraph any movement she made, Emma crawled back to Killian's side and looked again.

And saw her mistake immediately.

What she had originally thought was simply the singeing of denim by the soldering iron, was now more apparent as where the material had melted. And fused to Killian's skin. The burn beneath was angry and blistered, weeping a bit where the jeans had been pulled away. Where _Emma_ had torn the fabric out of the burn.

No wonder he was looking at her like she was going to injure him again.

Emma closed her eyes against the sting that crept up unannounced and laid her left hand on Killian's knee. She ignored the way his muscles twitched under her palm and soothed her thumb back and forth where he wasn't hurting.

"This is really bad, Killian," she said quietly. "We need to get you to Health Services. If not the ER."

Killian shook his head, almost violently. "I can't. If I… if I go to the ER, my father will find out. I can't do that."

Emma squeezed her hand over his knee. "You can't just ignore this. It needs to be cleaned out; it _will_ get infected if you leave it. Let's just go to HS first and see what they say. Please?"

It took him a moment, but Emma knew she had won when his chin dropped to his chest with a defeated sigh. Emma nearly jumped out of her skin when he clenched his fingers around her _right_ hand. She hadn't even realized that she had been holding onto his hand the entire time.

"All right," he whispered.

Nodding resolutely, Emma stood to her feet and pulled Killian's hand with her. Once she was steady, she pulled on his arm to help him stand and then ducked quickly under his shoulder when his leg wouldn't support him. She looped his arm over her shoulders and tucked herself tightly into Killian's side. Without thinking too much about it, Emma wrapped her other arm around his back and grabbed at the belt around his hips.

"Slow and steady wins the race, right?" she asked before they took their first faltering steps towards the door.

* * *

Killian sat on the gurney in the emergency room, playing with the tape over the loosely wrapped bandage on his thigh. He looked forlornly over at the tattered remains of his jeans in the biohazard can and then down to where his boxers just peeked out from under the hospital gown he'd been forced into. Hopelessly, he pulled at the hem over his other leg, trying in vain to lengthen the material just a bit more.

"Stop that," Emma chided from the door with a smile that shined in her eyes even as she tried to suppress it.

He looked up, the blush staining his cheeks and making the tips of his ears burn red. His hands fluttered about, trying to cover his bare legs and his underwear from her view. In her grasp was a very familiar looking bag - his own knapsack from his dorm room.

"Your roommate left this at the reception desk downstairs," she explained. "He and his girlfriend were headed out, but he said that he wouldn't be back until Monday. I thought you might like some sweats."

Killian breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled the worn material out of the main pocket. Ignoring the indignity of standing in front of a woman in naught but his underwear, he maneuvered off the bed, balanced on his good side, and snatched the pants from her. His fists closed around the fabric reflexively, already feeling more comfortable.

Until he tried to lift his leg to put on the sweatpants and almost ended up sprawled across the floor again.

Emma swooped in to the rescue, manhandling him back to sit on the mattress and slipping on the cuffs of the legs over his ankles.

"There," she chided. "Now you can be all Mr. Independent."

The fire attacked his ears again as Killian reached for the waistband and slipped it carefully over the bandages. He had already accidentally brushed over the burn once - he was in no hurry to do it again.

Killian looked up sheepishly as he settled back on the bed. "Thank you," he whispered softly.

Emma nodded his thanks away, settling on the edge of the bed without a care. "So what'd they say?"

"That I was an idiot," he laughed. "But a lucky idiot. A couple inches over and…"

It was Emma's turn to blush as her eyes were drawn automatically between his hips. "Yeah, I imagine that would have sucked."

He gulped. "I don't even want to think about it. A couple weeks of antibiotics and crutches and I'll be good as new."

Emma looked away. "I'm… I'm sorry, Killian. I didn't mean to knock the iron off the table, and I certainly didn't mean to hurt you worse when I was 'helping' you after."

The liberal use of air quotes made Killian laugh despite the contrite tone she used. "It was an accident, lass. Don't think anything of it, please. It was me who shouldn't have left the bloody thing that close to the edge of the table. I know better."

"Still, I-"

"-No, Swan," Killian interrupted before she could continue. "It wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have gotten so lost in the numbers."

Emma cocked her head to the side before asking, "What _were_ you doing? I called you at least five times and you were just staring off into space."

Killian reached up to scratch behind his ear, smiling self-deprecatingly as he nodded. "Aye, I expect that you could have waltzed in front of me in a bright red ball gown and I likely wouldn't have noticed. Sometimes… well, sometimes I just get lost watching the science."

Emma looked confused, and he couldn't blame her. The only one who had ever really understood was Liam - he was the one who had taken to Google to figure out that Killian was experiencing a form of synesthesia. He had been the one who took Killian to his doctor - and had forced the man to order tests to ensure that Killian didn't have some kind of brain tumor.

His older brother had been the only one who didn't make him feel like a freak.

Killian had tried long and hard to suppress the numbers from taking over his senses in public since Liam had died. It had taken far too many arguments with his father, far too many snide comments and blatant disrespect from his only remaining family, but Killian had learned. Keep the secret under wraps. Don't let anyone figure out just how screwed up, how different, how crazy you are.

He didn't mean to think about his father, but as soon as he did, the familiar burn of anger curled tightly inside Killian. A fierce entity of its own, just waiting to be let out to rage against the world, perked up and tensed until it was ready to strike against the one person in this world who was supposed to love and accept him unconditionally. The one person in this world who was his worst critic and the biggest bully he'd fought against. If the anger had its way, Killian would have seethed and fought his way through life, ending up lost and bitter with nothing to show for it.

And Liam would still be dead.

So Killian learned. He was good at learning. He learned how to control the anger, the numbers, the dance of the equation until he appeared to be what his father wanted - normal. And it still wasn't enough for the man, but at least it was enough for Killian to function with others.

There was something about Emma's calm presence in the lab that let loose those inhibitions.

He tried hard not to ponder what that might mean.

Killian sighed. "The numbers… my equation? They… I see it. In front of me sometimes. It's hard not to get lost in it."

Emma nodded. "I've seen that chicken scratch you call handwriting. I'm not surprised you get lost."

He huffed out a laugh, but his smirk dropped as he tried to make her understand without sending her running for the hills. "No. Not on paper. Literally in front of me. The numbers dance and swirl around me - the colors change as I manipulate the equation. It's… it's-"

"Is that why you said the model was green when I twisted it?"

He nodded.

"So, it's like, what? When a cartoon character gets hit in the head and sees stars and birds flying around?" Emma grinned, ducking her head to meet his eyes.

"I'm not a _bloody_ cartoon," Killian seethed, the familiar feeling of hurt, of bright hot anger and sickening disgrace, settling in his gut. He had to breathe deeply, terrified and unwilling to let the anger pounce on Emma, of all people.

Emma reached out quickly, laying her hand on his forearm and squeezing gently.

"I didn't mean it like that," she mollified. "I'm trying to picture it, that's all."

The tight coil of shame, the one that had been Killian's constant companion since the first teacher found out about the dance of his numbers, slowly unfurled. He took a deep breath and thought about it clinically. If he were watching a visual representation, then yes, Killian supposed it _would_ look like a cartoon.

"Aye," he spoke softly, lulling the beast within back to calm as well as reassuring Emma that he was no longer angry. "I suppose that's a lot like what it is. They're just there, like I could reach out and touch them. Like if I could just pick them up and move them, I could find the right order. I could break through the veil and manipulate time."

Emma smiled. "Well, then the next time I see you getting lost, I promise not to bring you back at the end of a soldering iron."

Killian grinned. "Thank you, milady. I do appreciate it."

She nodded, her hand still resting on his forearm. The warmth that emanated from her grip was nice, he realized. He didn't want her to pull away.

"Mr. Jones," a voice called from the doorway and Emma leapt to her feet - taking her warm strength with her. The resident who had dressed his leg stepped into the room with a pile of papers. "Here are your discharge instructions. There are two prescriptions on the top that you'll need to have filled by tonight. Anything feels worse or just not right, and feel free to come back. Otherwise, follow up with the nurse at school in a week."

Killian nodded and took the papers, signing where he needed to and listening half-heartedly. It wasn't the risk of infection or the need to follow the medication schedule to the letter that concerned him.

It was the upcoming phone call with his father that he needed to prepare for. This was exactly the fodder Brennan would use to try and force him home.

Killian was tired of the fight.

"Come on, Jones. Leave the numbers alone until we get you back to the dorms." Emma jostled his arm, misunderstanding where his mind had wandered. She was standing in front of him, holding out his knapsack. He cocked his head to the side in askance.

"I called Health Services before I came back with your pants." Emma smirked as both their gazes dropped down to his thighs. "They're gonna be here in fifteen minutes to bring us back to school."

The pair of crutches that the resident had left behind were on the bed, and Killian wobbled like a newborn foal as he got used to them. They were nothing like the ones he'd used as a child, and his brain automatically mapped out the inefficiency in this model versus the ones he'd expected to see. Regardless, he'd have to get used to them as he could still vividly remember how white hot pain had sliced through him with every stubborn step across campus.

He wouldn't be putting any weight on that leg for at _least_ a couple of days, dignity be damned.

One quick stop at the pharmacy and a check in with the nurse who'd originally taken one look at his leg and called for a transport later and Killian was safely ensconced on the futon in his dorm room with pillows under his thigh and Emma fidgeting by his desk.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked, straightening his homework and shifting his pencils around needlessly.

"No, Swan. Truly, you've gone above and beyond today." He tried to put his gratitude to words. "I'm sure you had classes that you missed to hang out with me."

She shrugged, and something shifted in Killian.

"You didn't have to do that, Emma. I could have managed on my own."

"Well, it was Physics, so I figure that you can help me catch up on what I missed. Besides, it was my fau-"

"-Stop saying that!" he interrupted angrily, unwilling to let her shoulder the blame for his carelessness. For his flustered reaction to her being so close to him.

Emma's mouth hung open, still wrapped around the last word. Slowly, she pursed her lips and stared him down.

"It wasn't your fault. It was an accident. Just an accident," he soothed softly. Anything to stop her looking at him like that. "Please, lass."

"Jones…" she still looked angry.

Killian cocked an eyebrow, waiting her out.

It took longer than he would have liked, but Emma deflated.

"Fine," she breathed out. "It wasn't my fault and it wasn't yours, either. Look, the cafeteria is going to close in half an hour. It'll take you at _least_ that long just to get there. So either you've got food stashed away in here somewhere, or you're going to suck it up and let me smuggle you a sandwich for dinner. What do you want?"

When she showed up twenty minutes later with two sandwiches and bags of chips that clearly came from the dining hall, Killian was mildly impressed. There was even a thermos of hot water and two packets - one of hot chocolate powder and one of the Americans' God-awful excuse for tea. The last time Will had tried to get past the doors with half a cup of ice cream, the woman at the exit had nearly browbeat him back to their seats.

Emma had made it out of there with a bona fide feast.

"What are you staring at?" she asked irritably as she yanked open one of the chip bags and handed it to him.

Killian smirked to cover up the flutter in his belly. "A veritable pirate, it looks like."

Emma blushed, and dropped her gaze back to their dinner. "Story for another time," she muttered.

They ate companionably - her sitting below him on the tile floor and him trying not to sink into the lumpy mattress and fall asleep.

"-decide to figure out about time travel?"

"Hmm?" Killian blinked his eyes open, not sure when he'd drifted off. The painkillers they'd given him had finally kicked in and he was floating.

"Never mind, Jones. Just give me the mug before you burn something else." Emma pried the tea out of his hands and set it on the desk. She shoved a water bottle towards Killian and waited until he managed to settle it right side up between his hip and the cushion that was supposed to be a mattress.

He didn't even see her leave the room with a soft glance back over his sleeping form.

* * *

"Sit down, son," the officer demanded in a gruff tone and thirteen-year old Killian bit back the defiant quip that nearly bubbled out. Liam would have clapped him upside the head if he could hear the sarcastic comments in his head. But Liam wasn't there, wouldn't ever be there again. He had bled out in the ambulance, with Killian able to do nothing but watch.

With that thought in his head, he slumped onto the bench against the wall of the police station. People were hurrying past him, totally insulated from the harsh words that Killian was thinking as they moved about their lives as if nothing had happened.

As if Liam wasn't gone and Killian wasn't agonizingly aware of how much his life had changed in the last few hours.

Of just how alone he was in the world now, even with his father blissfully unaware of his eldest - his favorite - son's demise back home in England.

"We're trying to reach your father now. You just wait here, someone will be by in a bit to watch you." The officer patted him on the head like a stray puppy before he moved across the room to his desk.

Killian snarled, but made no other move. Instead, he clutched Liam's jacket to his chest, burying his nose in the collar and willing himself not to cry again. He was shivering a bit, his stomach was roiling with nausea that he was intent not to give in to, and his lungs were twisted about like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his insides like a sponge. The din of the bullpen scratched at his ears, making them ring and creating a new pounding in his head that did nothing to calm him.

He wanted Liam. He wanted his brother to come and wrap him up in a hug like they'd done when Killian was still little and was afraid of the dark. He needed his big brother to come and save him.

But Liam wasn't coming. Not ever again.

Killian wasn't sure when the sights and the sounds and the shivering and the smell of blood long since cleaned off his hands finally got to him. The clothes he was wearing were foreign and scratchy, the hooded sweatshirt too big and baggy. None of it was helping to keep him warm, to keep him safe.

So he stood, ignoring the pointed look from the officer across the room, and slipped on Liam's leather jacket. There was a hint of blood there that one of the nurses in the hospital hadn't quite managed to clean off when he'd begged for the jacket, but it didn't matter.

Wrapped up in Liam's warm jacket, with the sleeves covering his hands and the shoulders slipping down his arms, with the collar popped so it was closer to his nose and the warmth of the thick material finally stopping the shivering, Killian wept.


	4. To Break Down and to Build Up

**_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/165336825727/she-looked-up-when-he-sat-back-on-his-heels)!_**

* * *

* * *

Killian woke with a start, jolting up on the futon and clenching his fists until the sharp pain of fingernails digging into his palm grounded him to the present instead of the past.  He wasn’t even sure which dream this was, which memory that tore him from sleep, but it didn’t matter.  They all ended the same - with him bursting back into reality only to find that the dream wasn’t nearly as bad as the realization that it was another day when Liam was cold in the ground and Killian was no closer to going back to save him.

_What are you doing, little brother?  Why haven’t you come for me yet?  You promised._

Logically, Killian knew that these were his own words.  He knew that Liam would never have spoken that way, his words would have been encouragement and patience.  He knew that the irritation and frustration came from his own perceived failures rather than any memory of Liam.

And even though the words sounded like Liam’s voice, even though the tone and the dialect and the accent were his brother’s, he still knew his brother would never have thought that, let alone said it.  That was more their father’s way.

It didn’t change anything.  He _heard_ Liam berating him and his mind automatically latched onto how long he’d been failing his brother.

Nausea assaulted Killian, fiery tendrils of anger and shame warring for dominance as he levered himself off the couch and towards the common bathroom down the hall.  The memory of the soldering iron burn left him with a bit of a phantom limp, but he’d been free of the crutches for a couple weeks and knew the scar would fade soon as well.  The dream he’d woken from picked at him relentlessly even as he tried to ignore it.  The memory prodded its way back to the forefront of his mind and made him gag a little with each step.

“All right there, Jones?” Will’s voice made him jump and swivel his head around.  Scarlet was exiting the stairwell, a distinct swagger to his step and glazed eyes that tracked him slowly.  It had been a while since he’d seen his roommate truly sober - Ana’s betrayal had left him reeling and Killian didn’t really know how to help other than to keep the young man away from their RA and campus police.

He was about to answer in the affirmative when Will lurched for the bathroom door and the sounds of retching echoed out into the hall.  Killian’s own stomach turned, reminding him of what he was doing in the hallway but he steeled himself and waited for Scarlet to finish.  

Focusing on someone he _could_ help instead of how helpless he was to change Liam’s fate settled him just enough that he didn’t join Will in a stall.

It seemed like hours later when Killian had Scarlet sprawled across the futon, a blanket thrown over his passed-out form and a rubbish can near his head.  Unable to stomach the idea of going back to sleep, Killian pulled on the worn leather jacket that hung off his wardrobe and tucked his keycard into a pocket.

The night was cool and quiet, stars above and a crescent moon just enough to light his way between the scattered streetlights on the campus paths.  He wandered aimlessly, not sure of where he was headed or even what he was doing out on the quad this late.  There was nothing for him out here - no responsibilities, no ghost of his brother, no dance of the numbers to assault him.  He couldn’t get into the lab and the library was closed.  All he had was the slight breeze in his hair and the scent of the ocean that was only a few miles from campus.

As if that had been his intended destination all along, rather than a subconscious one, Killian turned towards the main road and began the trek to the shore.  His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket, the sleeves no longer too big to sit comfortably at his wrists.  The scent of his brother was no longer ingrained in the material, and there were holes in the lining that he’d dutifully stitched and stitched again.  But none of that mattered - he wore it as a reminder, as a comfort, as a coat of armor against the world he’d been abandoned to.

The tide was on its way in when Killian finally made it to the tiny beach.  It was still too cold to wade in the water, but he slipped off his shoes and socks just the same.  He left them at the end of the boardwalk, curious to see another pair left haphazardly on a dilapidated piling just beyond his own shoes.

He walked above the seaweed line, letting the bite of cold sand and small rocks ground him as he went.  The sound of waves rolling in and the clean scent of brine wrapped around him like a blanket, quieting the last of his thoughts.

There was nothing here but peace.

“Seriously, Jones?!” A voice rang out in the night and Killian practically jumped out of his skin.  His hand came up to cover his heart as the other clenched in a fist before his brain could catch up.  He couldn’t see her, but he would’ve known that voice anywhere.

Emma.  Not someone looking to hurt him.

The scar on his thigh stung in protest, but he ignored it.  There was a difference between that scar and others he wore.

Finally recovering his voice, Killian asked, “What are you doing out here alone, lass?  It’s late.”

He looked around, trying to see in the darkness to figure out where she was hiding.  He had turned in a complete circle before her quiet laughter reached his ears and the light from a cell phone caught his eye.

She was sitting on a large boulder, her knees drawn up to her chest and an oversized hoodie swamping her figure.  She looked like a siren intent on dragging him to his death, but Killian found himself drawn to her side anyway.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered when he finally reached her side.  Emma looked down at him from her perch and then slid over to the side.

Not pausing to think about it too much, Killian scrambled up the side of the rock and hunkered down beside her.  They were pressed together from shoulder to hip, and he could feel her chill drawing on his warmth within moments.  “How long have you been out here?”

Killian felt the shrug more than he saw it.

They sat quietly for a while, staring out at the endless ocean and trying to pick out the horizon in the inky blackness.  The granite cliff behind them provided a backrest, and Killian settled down a bit further, fully relaxing for the first time since he’d woken in a cold sweat from his dream.

Emma sat rigidly next to him, still curled up in a tight ball.

He wasn’t sure what came over him, what gave him the shot of bravery he needed to reach out and tug on the ends of her hair.  Emma looked over her shoulder, meeting his eyes, and he smiled softly at her.

Not giving himself time to question his motives, Killian slid his hand across her back until his fingers wrapped around her shoulder and pulled her gently backwards.

Emma resisted for a moment, but then sighed and leaned back until her head was pillowed on his shoulder, his arm trapped between her back and the rocks behind them.

“I was… am… an orphan,” she breathed out, tensing a bit as she waited for his reaction.

Killian rubbed his thumb back and forth over the fabric at the jut of her neck, his fingers tightening ever so slightly around her shoulder.

Whatever reproach she was expecting, Emma didn’t seem to find it, and continued.  “I was left on the side of the road when I was an infant.  Whoever my parents were, they couldn’t even be bothered to take me somewhere safe before they dumped me.  I guess that they knew what they were doing, because no one else ever found something worth saving in me, either.”

Killian sucked in a breath, pulling her closer and tucking her head under his chin.  He had no idea what was happening, no idea how to help or make it better, but he remembered the times when Liam would try and make him feel normal after a rough day at school or with their father’s issues, and tried to emulate that.

He didn’t speak, had a feeling that Emma didn’t even realize she was speaking out loud, and he didn’t want to break the spell that had settled over them.

All he knew was that he had no idea what he was doing.

“I think about that sometimes, when I can’t sleep.  I wonder if maybe it wouldn’t have been better if…”

“No, Emma.  It wouldn’t have been better.”  He’d wanted to stay silent.  He’d wanted her to forget he was even there so she could get whatever this was off her chest.  But when he had an inkling over what she was going to say next, he spoke before he could think about it.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” she said in the same quiet, defeated tone of voice.

“Aye, I do.  You’re somewhat of an open book, lass.  And I’m good at reading.”  He smiled into her hair, the scent of something flowery tickling his nose.  “It’s not something I haven’t thought about myself in the past few years.  If it wouldn’t have been better for everyone if we just weren’t here.  If we’d never been.  But it isn’t.  It wouldn’t be.”

“Why not?” her words were choked.

Killian closed his eyes and breathed deeply.  “Because if you weren’t here, then I’d be all alone out here with nothing but the ghost of the brother I can’t save to keep me company.”

“Do you want to tell me about him?” she asked hesitantly, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his own against her shoulder.

Killian shook his head, biting back the sudden need to tell her everything he’d ever known about Liam.  But that wasn’t why he’d come out here tonight, and it certainly wasn’t why _she_ had come out here tonight.

“Sometime, yes.  He’s important to what we’re doing.  But not tonight,” he whispered.

Emma nodded, shuffling around a little bit until she was curled more fully against him.

“What are we doing, Jones?” she asked quietly, tensing as his arm came around her more securely.

What _were_ they doing?  He had no earthly idea.  He’d never so much as bothered to think about Emma as anything other than his assistant before, but somehow she’d snuck past the numbers and the failures and the driving need to focus on nothing but his brother.  They were friends, yes, but something felt different with her pressed against his side, tangled up in the darkness and the tranquility that the ocean provided.

“We’re existing,” Killian whispered, unsure how to put it into words more eloquent than that.

“Hmm,” she replied non-committally, tucking her head under his chin.  Killian didn’t know if his response was enough, and he was caught up in the ridiculous notion that he wanted to be more for her.  That he wanted to be enough for her.

God, he wanted his brother to tell him what to do next.

Without a concrete list of controls and variables, Killian didn’t know exactly what to do.  There were no lab manuals for this, no constructs and instructions to base his hypothesis around.  

And Emma shouldn’t be an experiment, anyway.  She was far more precious than that, he could see it in the way she interacted with him.  No, Emma was special.  No matter what her idiot birth parents - or any of the foster families who had failed her - led her to believe.

Killian wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, the soft sounds of the waves remixing with the even breaths Emma made as she finally relaxed.  He didn’t dream, a miracle in and of itself, and woke to the pinks and reds of the sun rising.

Emma was still tucked against his side, her fingers tangled in the ties of his hoodie and her mouth open as she snored softly.  Killian smiled at the sight, his hand coming up to brush some of the stray hair away from her forehead.

Emma sat up like she’d been shocked, her fists coming to bear and her breathing stuttered.

“Whoa, whoa, easy Swan.  It’s just me.”  Killian froze with one hand in front of him placatingly, holding eye contact with her until she woke up fully.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, bright red spots staining her cheeks as she began to blush.  “Old habits.”

Killian shook away the apology with a quick turn of his head and tugged on the back of her sweatshirt.  “Lay back, lass.  It’s still early.  The sunrise is amazing out here.”

“I shouldn’t,” she said, tearing her eyes away and tensing.  “I have class at nine.”

She was going to run.  Killian didn’t know how he knew, but he did.  Unless he did something.  “It’s barely six am, Swan.  You’ve plenty of time.  Unless you’re afraid I’m going to sully your virtue.”  He smirked and waggled his eyebrows the way he’d seen Liam do towards girls on the train sometimes.

Emma burst out laughing, but the tension eased out of her frame and she flopped back dramatically against his chest.  “Oh yes, Jones.  You’re a regular Don Juan.  Watch out, world!”

Killian laughed along with her, trying to disguise the breath of relief when she didn’t move to slip away from him.

They sat in silence for awhile, watching the sun paint the horizon in a stunning array of colors.  Emma’s hair tickled his nose, but Killian was terrified to move and brush it away lest he break the magical spell that had encapsulated them.

Here, there was no sordid past of foster homes and orphanages, no ghost of a lost brother or a disappointed sot of a father.  There were no numbers, no experiments, no criminal justice papers, and no _Candy Crush_ to interrupt them.  There was no hesitance, no over thinking, no walls, and no worry over what would become of this.

There was just Emma and Killian, curled up on a boulder watching the magic of the day starting.

Killian could get used to this.

* * *

Emma kept expecting the need to run from Killian to overtake her.  She kept thinking that the next time they met up at the beach in the middle of the night or the next time he tangled their fingers together under the cafeteria table would be the time that she’d balk.  She thought that the day she’d shown up to the lab for their session and there was a carnation bloom waiting for her on the keyboard while Killian studiously worked on his model - complete with bright pink ears - that she’d panic.

She didn’t.

And that terrified her.

She needed this job.  She needed Killian’s easy friendship.  She needed to keep up her walls so that it wouldn’t hurt when someone else threw her away like garbage.  She needed…

She needed exactly the laid-back relationship that Killian was offering her.

Emma wasn’t sure when Killian had snuck up on her defenses and sidled his way through her walls, but he had.  He was there and he was comfortable and as long as she didn’t think about it too much, he was safe.

She left her last class for the afternoon in a rush, trying to make it across campus to the labs on time.  The professor had waylaid her with comments about her most recent paper on the contrast of Supreme Court cases in history versus today.  He had appreciated a point that she made and wanted to expound on it at length.  Then, when she got out of that conversation, Ruby had caught her and wanted to complain about her newest boyfriend Graham’s tendency to follow her around like a lost puppy.

By the time she got to the lab, Killian was thoroughly engrossed in the circuits he’d been fiddling with for months now.  It looked to Emma as though he had the workings of more than one computer spread across the table, and the soldering iron that had caused them such strife earlier in the semester was carefully perched on its stand and far away from Killian’s leg.

Emma glared at the tool for good measure.

“What’s on the agenda for today, Jones?” she asked, already slinging her backpack under the lab table and signing into the physics program.

Killian jumped off the stool like someone had set off a firework under his chair.  The tiny screwdriver he’d been using clattered to the ground, making him jump again, and the telltale blush worked its way up to the tips of his ears.

He was embarrassed.

“Hey,” she called to him calmly.  “It’s just us here.  You okay?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  Instead, he dropped to his knees and started searching for the lost tool.  Emma watched him miss it three times as he swept a hand under the shelf before she sighed exasperatedly and stalked over to him.

Without a word, Emma knelt down beside him, tugged the screwdriver out from its hiding spot with one hand, and tangled their fingers together with the other.  “What’s going on?”

There was more than a hint of redness on his cheeks now, but the smile was more genuine as he tightened his grip under her own.  “I wanted to… to ask you if…” He paused, took a deep breath, and tried again.

“Will you go out with me?”

Emma froze.  All of the fears that she had been waiting for, that she had thought weren’t going to rear their ugly heads because it was just Killian and her, it all came to the forefront and she couldn’t hear over the buzzing in her ears.

What they had was simple.  It wasn’t a _thing_ , it was just them.  If she agreed to _go out with him_ , then that meant they were… they were what?

“Emma?” Christ, he sounded more nervous than she was.

She looked up when he sat back on his heels, loosening his fingers to pull away from her.  He looked like she had kicked his puppy and smashed his prototype all rolled into one hangdog expression.

She wanted more than anything to erase that look from his face.

“All right,” she whispered, the words escaping her before she could think too hard about them.  Going out with him didn’t have to be complicated, and it didn’t have to be anything more than just _them_.

“Aye?” he asked, the hope burning brightly in his too-blue eyes.  There was a half-smile forming, and, God help her, dimples.

Emma didn’t think too much about it after that.  “Yeah.”

Killian grinned so hard it made _her_ face hurt.

That was when she realized she was grinning, too.

The date was simple - it wasn’t like either of them had a lot of money or transportation off campus to begin with.  They took the shuttle into the main part of town, holding hands and crowding into half a bus seat so it felt like they were the only two people in the entire world.  A simple dinner at Granny’s - complete with the woman herself sniffing around for potential gossip to share with Ruby - and a walk down to get ice cream at _Any Given Sundae_ .  It was easy, it was simple, it was just _them_.

“I wish I could give you more,” Killian whispered as they ended up at the beach again, the blanket they had hidden in an outcropping of rocks protecting them against the night air.

Emma shook her head, curling more fully into his warmth.  “This was perfect,” she whispered back.

Killian grunted his disapproval of that, but tugged her in closer and tucked the edge of the blanket under her shoulder.

“Was it so bad?  Going out on a date with me?”  Emma could hear the tension in his voice, the uncertainty.

She was terrified of what this all meant, terrified that he would wake up one day and realize that she wasn’t worth it.  But _he_ was worth the risk, and Emma thought she might be able to put her fears aside for him.

“So bad, Killian, that I think we should try it again next weekend, and the weekend after that,” Emma teased, grinning at the way his breath caught in the chest under her ear.

It took him a moment, but Killian finally huffed out a laugh and relaxed under her.  The sound of the waves crashing on the beach was the only soundtrack to their evening, the nightly path of the stars through the sky the movie that they fell asleep to.

Emma woke with a start, the booming echo of thunder causing her to sit straight up before her eyes were even open.  Killian jolted up behind her, the warmth of his chest a balm against the wind that cut through her.  They were scrambling off the rock before lightning could streak across the sky, illuminating the beach for an instant before shrouding everything in darkness once more.

She heard the rain before she felt it.  Big, fat droplets of icy fire that pelted them as they ran off the sand and for the relative safety of the buildings.  They were still a few miles from campus, the shuttles had long since stopped for the night.  Killian crowded her against the side of the buildings as they walked, draping the blanket over her shoulders and taking the brunt of the rain.

“You’re going to get sick, idiot,” Emma complained as she tried to spread the cloth over both their backs.  

Killian tugged on her shoulder, stopping Emma in her tracks and backing her up against the wall.  He tucked the edges of the blanket over her shoulders and into her hands.  Then, he stepped into her space so that their knees knocked together and his forehead rested on her own.  He quirked half a smile, his nose brushing against hers as he stared into her eyes.

Emma slipped her hands over his shoulders, cocooning them both in the blanket once more and erasing any space that had remained between them.  “Hi,” she whispered.

“Hello, luv,” Killian whispered back.

“What are you doing?”  Emma snickered when his nose wrinkled up.

He stepped closer, nudging his foot between hers and dropping his face to her neck.  Emma nearly squealed when his nose found the warm skin at her throat.  He was freezing.  “You’re warm,” he mumbled.

Emma scrunched up her nose, tightening her grip around his shoulders and trying to close the blanket around his back.  She’d thought for a moment that he was going to kiss her, and she’d tensed.  She didn’t know if Killian had felt it and had redirected his intentions, or if he had always planned on stealing her warmth for a moment, but the drop in her stomach when he hadn’t kissed her surprised her.

“All right, glacier-face, let’s get you inside somewhere.”  Emma broke the moment, tucking them both into the blanket and tugging Killian down the street.

All too soon, they were standing outside Emma’s dorm room door.  She reached up and wrapped the blanket around Killian until he was completely trapped.  His nose wrinkled again and one of his eyebrows shot up as Emma secured the corner of the material at his chest.

“Emma,” he warned.  “I’m stuck.”

She smirked back at him, watching as he shifted his hands to try and find the opening.  “I know.  It’s a good look on you, Jones.”

He sighed, pouting a little, but let it be.  “I had a good time tonight,” he said quietly.

“I did, too,” Emma replied.

Killian shuffled his feet, and Emma knew that he would be scratching behind his ear if his arms were free.  “Well, good night, luv.”

Emma heard the hesitance, the hint of insecurity that called to her.  She didn’t think too much about what she did next, just acted.

The scruff covering his jaw scratched at her lips and the muscles in his cheek twitched in surprise as she let the chaste kiss just under his cheek last a second longer than she intended.  “Good night, Jones,” Emma called as she slipped inside her dorm room door.

She leaned back against the heavy door, and could just hear Killian’s quiet and awed, “good night,” before his soft footsteps echoed down the hall.

And so it went.  Emma continued to help out in the lab and Killian continued to forget to eat until he realized she hadn’t eaten.  They met up between classes to study alongside one another in the library and they went to the Merry Men’s gigs.  Killian left flower blooms on her keyboard and Emma kept a fully stocked drawer of notebooks and mechanical pencils for him.

He didn’t refer to her as his girlfriend, and she didn’t tell anyone she had a boyfriend, but the idea of it all wasn’t quite so frightening any more.  Emma thought she might not mind if they did label what they had.

Will Scarlet, it seemed, hadn’t gotten the memo though.

“Look, I dunno what’s got into your boyfriend,” Scarlet’s accent carried heavily over the cell phone connection.  “But he’s drunk as a skunk on the floor of our room and I’m on me way out the door.  You wanna come get him, then I’ll leave a quarter in the latch, or just let him pass out on the rug.  Up to you, sweetheart.”

Emma pulled the phone away from her ear to look at incredulously.  Killian… _her Killian_ … was drunk?  She didn’t even think he’d ever touched anything stronger than Red Bull, never mind drinking enough to wind up on the floor of his dorm room.  “I’m on my way.  This better not be your idea of a prank, Will.  If it is, I _will_ get my revenge.”

Scarlet didn’t respond, but the next thing Emma heard were very slurred lyrics.  “Did they play the fife lowly, did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?” echoed through the airwaves in Killian’s marked accent.

“Wow,” she breathed out, reaching for her keycard and sprinting out the door.

It was easy enough to get past the door monitor, throwing her ID on the desk and sprinting down the hall without so much as a, “by your leave.”  Emma didn’t think the bored upperclassman even looked up from his tablet.  Up the stairs and down another hallway, and she could hear Killian still singing the same tune.  Emma thought she recognized it from the Merry Men’s setlist, a cover of a Dropkick Murphy’s cover.  The name of the song escaped her at the moment, but she remembered how sad the lyrics had left her.

“Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame.  The killing and dying it was all done in vain,” came through the door as Emma slipped inside, pulling the quarter off of the latch and letting it lock closed behind her.

“Killian?” she whispered into the darkness.  Emma wanted to let her eyes adjust before she risked tripping through the room lest she fall over Killian.

“‘Mm-ma?” the singing cut out quickly and she followed the sound of his voice to the other side of the futon.

Scarlet had left Killian sprawled out on the old throw rug, his arms wrapped around a trash can and a blanket tossed haphazardly across his back.  When Emma sat down on the couch near his head, Killian shoved his upper body off the floor so he could look towards her knees.  “That you, luv?”

“Hey,” she whispered.  “You wanna get up off the floor?”

Killian shook his head and then grimaced, a soft whimper escaping him as he hugged the bin closer.  “The ship’s rocking too much.”

Emma laughed.  “The ship, huh?  Who’s captaining this boat?”  She reached down to scratch her nails over his scalp.

“Morgan.  I don’t think I like him much.”

“Mor… Captain Morgan?”  Emma looked around and saw the handle of rum that had rolled under the TV cart.  She was relieved to see that it was more than half-full.

She felt Killian nod before he levered himself up with a huff and rolled onto the futon.  His head landed heavily in her lap, and he buried his nose in the crease of her hip.  Emma settled the blanket over as much of his lanky frame that she could reach, and carded her fingers through his hair.

“What happened, Killian?  Why the rum?” she asked mostly to herself, not sure he was cognizant enough to answer her.

“Miss m’ brother,” he slurred, a distinct hitch in his breathing.  “Wan’ Liam back.”

Emma clenched her eyes shut against the sting that the pain in his voice brought about.  She’d never felt as much attachment to anyone as Killian did to a ghost, and she wanted more than anything to fix it for him.

“Do you wanna talk about him?” she asked, settling more fully into the futon.  She smiled softly when Killian’s hand snuck out from under the blanket and started scrabbling around until he knotted their fingers together.

“He was m’ big brother,” Killian mumbled with a sniffle.  “He looked out for me, you know?”

Emma didn’t, but she had heard stories.  This wasn’t the time for that, however.  “I know, Killian.  You miss him, huh?”

“He died.”  Killian didn’t elaborate, but Emma had already figured that out for herself.

She tangled her fingers through his hair, snagging the wisps that curled around the back of his ear and tugging a bit.

“Was my fault,” he whispered brokenly, and he shifted further onto Emma’s lap.

_That_ she hadn’t expected.  “I don’t believe that,” she spit out vehemently.  She knew better than to believe that.

But Killian shook his head violently against her thigh.  “Was.  He was takin’ me to a lecture.  Wouldn’t’a been there otherwise.  Wouldn’t’a got shot.”

She gasped in spite of herself.  His brother had been _murdered_?

Killian bowled on and Emma felt like she was sprinting to catch up with him.  “Don’t even know who it was.  It was like he was a ghost.  Just came outta nowhere and shot up the street.  Didn’t even know who Liam was, didn’t care who m’ brother was.  He just… just shot him for no reason.  Liam wouldn’t’a hurt anyone, wouldn’t’a done anything wrong.  But he didn’t care.  Just killed m’ brother.  Then he disappeared.  But I’m gonna fix it.  I’m gonna save ‘im.  Gonna make m’ brother proud.  You’ll see, Emma.  Gonna make you proud of me, too.”

He sniffled a little, and Emma bent forward until she was cocooning his head with her body.  She switched so that their combined hands were in his hair and her now-free hand was sliding up and down his back.  “I’m already proud of you, Killian.  Your brother is, too.  I know it.”

She had him wrapped up so tightly that he couldn’t shake his head ‘no’, though he tried admirably.  “I hear him sometimes, asking why I haven’t figured it out yet.  Why I haven’t saved him yet.”

Emma didn’t know why it hadn’t sunk in earlier - the reason that Killian was so focused on time travel, the reason that he wanted to discover its secrets in the first place.  He was just a lost boy whose only guiding star had been stolen from him.  He just wanted his brother back.

“You’re gonna save him, Killian.  I promise.”  Emma’s voice was strained with the intensity that stole her breath.  She was going to do whatever it took, and Emma Swan didn’t take her vows lightly.  

“You’re going to get your brother back, and I’m going to help you.”

  
  
  


 

**_Look at the amazing art that[ab-normality](http://ab-normality.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](http://ab-normality.tumblr.com/post/165334139061/lay-back-lass-its-still-early-the-sunrise-is)!_**

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who has left a comment so far, I'm terribly sorry that I haven't responded yet. I've been in the process of moving for what feels like months now and have fallen woefully behind. I appreciate each and every comment, kudos, and hit, and will get back to you as soon as I can! Thank you all for reading and please, please, please, keep letting me know what you think!


	5. To Weep and to Laugh

 

 **_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/165592739382/then-he-tried-to-spear-one-of-her-potatoes-and)!_**

* * *

* * *

There was an army of little men inside his skull, chiseling out random numbers that danced around his head and using tiny jackhammers to do it.  The taste of cotton and spices dried out his mouth and his tongue felt like sandpaper stuck to his upper palate.  The light from the window stabbed at his eyes, and Killian was sure that if he dared to open them, the sun would burn his retinas irreparably.

He had never felt so physically awful in his entire life.

The sound of crackling plastic next to his ear made Killian whine audibly, then grimace as the sound of his own whimper intensified the work ethic of the men in his skull.  Soft fingers carded through his hair, the gentle scratches quieting the headache for a moment.

“Drink some of this,” a whisper caressed his ears without making the headache worse.  “Just a couple sips.”  

Killian’s stomach rolled at the thought of drinking anything, but before he could work enough spit into his mouth to make a sound of protest, the hard plastic of a water bottle tapped his lips and he took a sip.  The cool liquid swept away some of the cotton and loosened his tongue a bit.  He wanted more and tried to chase the bottle when it was pulled away.  “In a minute, Jones.”

“Emma?” He wasn’t entirely sure it _was_ her, but it sounded like her.

“Shh,” whoever it was soothed, the water bottle catching on his lower lip again.  “I have some Advil here, do you think you can swallow it?”

That was definitely Emma’s voice, and he nodded without really thinking about it.  He didn’t remember where she came from, but the promised pills would help clear his head.  At the very least, the ibuprofen would settle the numbers into a weave rather than a waltz.

He didn’t even want to think about how scrambled the equation was at the moment.  That was what he had notebooks for.

Later.

Emma’s palm was at his mouth now, the small pills tipped into his mouth followed by more of the water that was quickly becoming his favorite drink.  Killian swallowed quickly and grimaced at the aftertaste from what must have been a knockoff brand.

The fingers settled in his hair again and Killian didn’t think too much about snuggling back down into the comfortable place his head had fallen.  Whatever he was resting on was more firm than a pillow, but warm and soothing all the same.

“Sleep, Killian.  Go back to sleep.”

He thought he nodded before falling back into the darkness of his dreams.

When Killian woke some time later, the headache had abated somewhat and he thought he might be able to risk opening his eyes.  He had some vague recollection of Emma’s soft voice, but that was preposterous - he had practically stumbled his way into every surface in his dorm room, and Emma clearly wouldn’t have been with-

“You with me this time, Jones?”  Emma’s soft, albeit somewhat wry, voice cut over his internal monologue, startling him badly enough that his eyes shot open of their own accord and locked on the emerald gaze that he’d thought about far too often in the waking moments - and sometimes in his dreams.

She was here, in his room, acting the part of his pillow.

“Hi?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but his brain still hadn’t caught up to his actions.

Emma smiled and reached out to cover his eyes with her hand.  “Hello there.”

The darkness was comforting, the warmth of her hand moreso.  He wanted to bask in the simplicity of the moment, but the taste of spice and… was that _coconut…_ reminded him all too well of how his night had begun - if not how it apparently ended.

“I’m sorry, luv, if I did anything… untoward last night.  Did I call you?” Killian hesitated, praying to anyone who would listen that she wasn’t angry with him.

The soft peal of her laughter settled him.  “You were fine, Jones.  And no, you didn’t call me.  Will did.”

Killian grunted incredulously.  He’d have figured that the sod would have left him for dead on the carpet.

“You talked a little bit about your brother.”  Emma started to play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck when he tensed up at the mention of Liam.  “You don’t have to tell me anything else about what happened, but I need you to know that I promised you last night that I’m going to help you save him.  I needed you to hear it when you’d remember it.”

Her tone was fierce and there was no questioning that she was serious.  Killian’s breath stuttered in his chest as he realized the depth of her sincerity.  He’d been terrified what would happen if anyone - Hopper, the University, his _father_ \- figured out that his childhood obsession had turned into a rescue mission.

But here was Emma, not condemning him nor ridiculing him nor trying to stop him, but vowing to _help_ him break all the laws of physics and ethics and ignore the butterfly and ripple effects.  To bring back his brother.

To save Liam.

“I… _thank you_ , luv.  I don’t… I can’t…”  His mouth was running faster than his brain, and he couldn’t even begin to comprehend the words that would explain what this meant to him.

“You don’t have to thank me for that, Killian.  It’s my job, remember?”  His head was starting to ache again, but Killian could hear the softness in her tone that let him know it was more than her job - that it had been about more than that for a long time now.

“Aye, luv.  I’ll make sure that Hopper knows you’re doing your job well.  Above and beyond, I’d say.”  He laughed, then cringed at the noise.

“All right, let’s get you up and going.”  Emma kept speaking over his sputtering protests.  “The next shuttle to town leaves in half an hour, and we’re going for breakfast.”

Killian’s stomach turned at the thought of food, and he glared at the bottle of rum still hidden under the television stand.  Why on _earth_ had he thought that his father’s brand of cowardice would work for him?  It was an experiment he wasn’t likely to recreate any time soon.

Emma laughed.  “We’ll hide that for Scarlet, shall we?”

Killian shook his head and sat up gingerly.  His thigh brushed against Emma’s own, and he almost blushed.  “Wasn’t his.  Got it from Jefferson.  He doesn’t deserve it back for not warning me about this.”

The snort that burst free from Emma colored her cheeks in a startling shade of pink, and she clapped her hands over her mouth.  Killian grinned in spite of himself.

“Well, maybe save the rest of it for a special occasion then.”  Emma paused, and her smile grew softer.  “Like when we get your brother back.  Now get up and get in the shower.  You smell like a distillery.”

Killian huffed out a laugh of his own, but it caught in his chest when Emma wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged him in to kiss his hair.  The feel of her lips lingered long after the door shut behind her, the command to meet him downstairs in twenty minutes barely registering.

It was the second time she’d kissed him, brief and chaste little things that left him frozen in time and helpless against the onslaught of emotion.  When was the last time someone had sought to comfort him with a touch, a hug, a kiss?  Was it really so long ago now that Liam had ruffled his hair and roughhoused with him on the streets of Ireland?

Was it really so long that he’d gone without knowing someone cared?

Killian was going to latch onto this feeling and treasure it just as reverently as he did the equation that would bring him back to his brother’s side.

* * *

The disapproving look that the new door monitor gave Emma as she swiped the ID out of the system was a little haughty, if she did say so herself.  Just because the upperclassman had nothing better to do with her Saturday morning than judge Emma coming out of the boys’ dorm didn’t give her the right to sneer quite so much.

“Leave off it, your majesty,” Scarlet’s sharp accent carried through the entryway as he swaggered through the front door.  “She was doin’ me a favor, so spare us the look down your ever pointed nose.”

He turned to her.  “Mornin’ lass.  Did the wanker make it through the night?”

Emma nodded, shoving her ID back in its slot in her wallet.  “Although he probably wishes he hadn’t.  He should be in the shower now.  Tell him if he isn’t, I’m not helping the next time he needs to glue a model together.”

Scarlet saluted her sloppily before swiping in with a flourish and practically bouncing down the hall.

Emma glanced at the monitor out of the corner of her eye and resisted the urge to sneer.  Instead, she slipped out the front door to sit on the steps of the dorm.

Killian found her there fifteen minutes later, and she had to bite back a laugh at the ball cap pulled so low that the brim rested on the rims of his aviator sunglasses.  It did little to mask the pinched look on his face, and somewhere Emma didn’t want to think about, she realized that he was only on his feet and out of the dorm because of her.

She took Killian’s hand in hers and led them to the shuttle stop.

“Where are we going, anyway?” he asked when they were squashed into one of the bus seats again - this time due to the sheer lack of space as everyone tried to get off campus for the day.

“Granny’s.  She’s got a great cure for your ailments - or so Ruby assures me.”  Emma shrugged, leaning forward so that her shadow fell across his face instead of the early morning sun.  His quiet sigh of relief curled in her belly like a warm cup of cocoa.  

Killian dropped his head on her shoulder and mumbled something that sounded like acquiescence.  Emma twisted a little in the seat so he could bury his eyes in her neck, her arm coming around his shoulders and scratching at the nape of his neck.  She smiled into the top of his head, the ratty baseball cap smelling just a little musty.

Granny’s was packed, and Emma slumped a little when Ruby told her it would be a wait for a table.  Her roommate took one look at Killian, though, and scurried off to the kitchen.  She came back a few moments later with a glass of what looked like liquified grass.

“I’m not drinking _that_ ,” Killian whined incredulously and recoiled from the drink that Ruby shoved under his nose.  “I’m not even sure anything living should be drinking _that_. It smells like a dead animal.”

The waitress shrugged and left the glass on the countertop near where Emma and Killian were tucked away.  “Your loss, but I promise you it works.  You won’t even remember you had a hangover.  Granny’s magic.”

Emma burst out laughing at the bewildered look on Killian’s face.  His gaze kept darting back and forth between the concoction in front of him and Ruby’s back as she danced between the patrons.

“Just drink it quick, Killian.  If Ruby says it works, then it works.”  She bit back another laugh when he turned his tortured gaze on her, looking every bit the part of the little boy who has just been told to gag down the nasty cough medicine that would burn and taste awful, no matter how much it was sugarcoated.

Regardless of his feelings on the matter, Killian dutifully chugged the putrid green liquid as quickly as he could manage.  Some kind of aborted noise came from the back of his throat and Emma would swear later that he turned the color of the drink.  He buried his face in the crook of her neck and she could feel the minute tremors that ran through him.

Ten minutes later, however, he was a new man.

“I’m telling you, Swan, we need to figure out what Granny sacrificed to whatever mystical beings created that concoction and pay her triple for it,” he crowed, perusing the menu as they waited to be seated.

In case she had any thoughts to him trying to be noble and mask his symptoms from her, he dispelled those notions with the size of the breakfast he ordered.  Emma watched, transfixed, as he munched on a little bit of everything from his plate.

Then he tried to spear one of her potatoes, and she lost any sympathy she’d had for him, smacking the back of his hand with her fork and then brandishing the tines at him.

“I have no reservations about sticking the pointy end of this fork in your hand if you try that again, Jones,” she whispered hotly.

Killian gulped audibly.

Then looked affronted when she snatched a piece of bacon off his plate.

“Oi! No fair, Swan!” he cried as he tried to snatch it back.

Emma grinned around the crunch and swallowed, savoring the taste as Killian continued to sputter.

When she finally made it to the lab on Monday after her classes for the day had finished, Killian was nowhere to be found.  Shrugging to herself, Emma logged onto the computer and looked around for his notebook.  She knew that he had scheduled a couple hours in the morning between his classes when she couldn’t make it, but he usually left her with a list of variables to input into the program.

She found the notebook wedged into a book on quantum physics that looked as if Killian had scribbled over every single page in various pens and markers.  Shaking her head, Emma flipped through the pages looking for the day’s instructions.

 

> _Swan,_
> 
> _Good afternoon, lass.  I hope your day has gone better than mine.  Professor Hopper needs to speak with me after my last class, so I will probably be late to our afternoon session.  Don’t forget to eat lunch if I don’t get there in time to remind you!  You’ll find the different variables for today’s tests listed below. I truly hope we find something soon so the real work can begin._
> 
> _Alas, I have to run or I’ll be late to my philosophy class - bloody waste of time if you ask me, but the powers that be insist on core courses, so I will have to suffer through.  Hopefully, I’ll see you soon after you finish reading this, and won’t be held up too long by Archie._
> 
> _Don’t forget to eat, Emma, please!_
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _Killian_

 

Below his note, in a mess of barely-legible cursive and printed letters, were a number of different variables to play with.  Emma suppressed a smile when she thought about how awful his penmanship was when it came to his experiment - the note to _her_ was written in careful, looping script that he clearly took pride in.  They had spent the first month of working together in various iterations of: “Killian, what on earth did you write here?” and “Swan, that quite obviously says…”

Emma wasn’t sure if she should be awed or afraid that she could now read his chicken scratch as easily as her law books.

With an ease born of too many hours in the lab, Emma input the first set of tests into the computer and turned to those law books.  She had a paper due in Police and Society, and she wasn’t looking forward to the research associated with it.

Emma had an idea of an independent study project she wanted to undertake, but wasn’t quite sure how Killian would react.  Better to get a foothold on the case before she brought it up.  If there really _wasn’t_ anything to find, then there was no use upsetting him, was there?

There was a small voice in the back of Emma’s head berating her for thinking like that, but she shushed it with a definitive mental flick.

When Killian finally slunk into the room, any thoughts Emma’s conscience had of telling him about her project flew out the window.  He threw his backpack onto a spare chair and then wandered listlessly over to her, draping his upper frame over her shoulders and burying his nose in her neck.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, luv,” Killian rumbled in her ear.

Emma reached behind her until her fingers tangled in his hair.  She scratched lightly at his scalp and was rewarded with a soft groan.  “Bad day?”

“Aye, but better now.  Have you been here long?” he asked, standing up again and shuffling his feet self-consciously.

Emma missed the warmth of his body against hers immediately.

“Just a few minutes,” she assured.  “I’m still on the first set of numbers for today.”

“Third.  Liar,” he whispered with a nod at the screen and a wry grin on his face .  It didn’t reach his eyes, but he turned back to the lab bench before Emma could catch his gaze.

Part of her wanted to pester him until he opened up, until he told her what was running rampant through his head and stomping on his usually jovial mood.  If it was Liam, she could be a sounding board or a supportive shoulder.  If it was classwork, they could _definitely_ gripe together about that.  If it was _her_... God, what if it was her?

Emma was frozen on her lab stool, staring at his back until the computer buzzed a failure result.

It sounded like the computer was razzing her about her spiraling thoughts.

“Just, forget it, Emma.  It’s never going to work,” Killian sounded so lost, so defeated, that Emma was on her feet and crossing the room before he even finished speaking.

This was foreign territory for her.  What would she want someone to say to her if she were… how did Ruby do this every time?

“Talk to me, Killian,” she murmured as she stood next to him, her hand rubbing softly between his shoulder blades.  She didn’t know where to start - she just knew that blanket platitudes wouldn’t work, for either of them.

He didn’t speak, just a simple shake of his head as he continued to stare off into space.  It wasn’t that the numbers were dancing for him - she knew that stare by now - it was as if he were searching for the path that would lead him out.

Emma started to pull away, sharp tendrils of hurt beginning to prick at her, but Killian leaned back into her hand, forcing her to keep it there to steady him.  When her hand didn’t move, he huffed out an audible sigh and visibly relaxed.  

Emma relaxed as well, relieved by the simple fact that he needed her there.  It was a heady feeling.  Determined to keep that feeling going, she leaned into Killian’s side and let her hand travel up to his shoulder.  She squeezed the bunched muscles there, trying to untangle the knots that signified Killian’s stress.  He groaned in response and the muscles tightened under her hand.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered as his chin dropped to his chest.

Emma moved to stand behind Killian, using both hands to dig into the knots in his neck and shoulders.  She kneaded at the skin for a few minutes, gently pushing him forward until he pillowed his head on his arms.  Killian relaxed in increments, and as the muscles unbunched, he finally began to speak.

“I had to meet with Dr. Hopper today about my requisitions for next semester so we can start building some of the components.”  His voice was muffled against the bench and interspersed with incomprehensible sounds as Emma tugged and prodded.  “He had promised me that I could have the supplies if I made an effort to get along with you, and obviously I’ve-”

“What?”  Emma stopped the massage suddenly and Killian’s head rolled on his arm until he could pout at her for leaving the knot she’d been working on.

“He didn’t think I’d give you the time of day without adequate incentive.  In case you’ve forgotten, luv, I didn’t exactly jump at having you working with me.”

Emma stared at him for a moment, trying to sort out her thoughts in her head.  She wanted to be angry, or hurt, or defensive.  He should have told her that their partnership came at a cost.  But then she remembered - she hadn’t exactly been upfront with him, either.

Determined to let it go, Emma took up the massage again.  “That’s all right, I was never really supposed to help you with the science.  I was supposed to make you get out of the lab and eat from time to time.”  She spoke lightly, hoping that he would move past her subterfuge as easily as she was trying to get around his.

To Emma’s relief, Killian chuckled.  “I knew you couldn’t possibly be that afraid of going to the cafeteria by yourself.  The only thing I’ve seen you terrified of is spiders.”

Emma scowled.  “I’m not… terrified of them!  I’m just… they’re scary, all right?”

He laughed out right, this time.  “As you say, luv.  I’ll come to your rescue any time you find one in your humble abode.”

“You’d better,” she mumbled, finally dropping her hands away from his back.  “So what did Hopper say?”

Killian sat up and rolled his head along the back of his neck.  “Thank you, Swan, I needed that.”

“Killian,” she dragged out his name until it was more of a warning than anything.

He shook his head.  “The department doesn’t have the money for my supplies.  Since this is a ‘theoretical construct’ at this point in time, they can’t justify the expense for more materials.  Archie said that he’d put in another requisition after the fiscal year turns over on July 1st, but as of right now, it might be another full year before I can get some of the supplies I need for the components.”

“Oh, Killian,” Emma tugged on his knee until he turned to face her.  Before he could question it, she wrapped Killian in a tight hug, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling lightly.  His hands fisted in the back of her shirt after a moment’s hesitance, and he practically yanked her to stand between his knees.

They stayed wrapped up like that for a long time - long enough for the motion-activated lights to shut off and shroud them in darkness.

Killian pulled back from Emma with a laugh, the quick flash of light making her squeeze her eyes shut against the glare.

With her eyes still closed, Emma didn’t have any warning when Killian brushed his lips against hers - once, twice, three times, and then pulled back abruptly.

“Was… was that okay?” he whispered, and Emma could hear the fear there.

She opened her eyes and smiled softly at him, reaching up to brush his bangs away from his face.  His brow was furrowed, his breathing short and choppy.  Emma leaned forward, brushing her nose against his and then meeting his lips with her own.

It was a chaste kiss, far more innocent than Emma was used to people taking from her.  She wanted to take it further, wanted to explore how they fit together, but Killian didn’t seem in a hurry, so she pulled back and let it be.

His brows were still furrowed, his eyes searching hers uncertainly.

The poor idiot still wasn’t sure of her answer.

“Yes, Killian,” Emma tugged on his ear and then interlocked her fingers behind his neck.  “That was okay.”

He beamed at her, a full-fledged grin that showed his teeth and his dimples.  Emma left one more kiss to the corner of his mouth, laughing into his smile, and then stepped back.

“Now,” she admonished, “we’re here to work.  No more goofing around, Rico Suave.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Killian called out.  He saluted her sloppily and then turned back to the components he _did_ have access to.

Emma watched him work diligently for a moment before she leaned in, kissed the back of his head, and moved back to the computer.  She input the next set of variables, then settled in with her homework.

* * *

Spring break was quickly upon them, and then final exams were looming.  More often than not, Killian found Emma holed up in a corner of the lab surrounded by books and PowerPoint printouts.  He had told her numerous times to study where she was comfortable - that he _was_ perfectly capable of typing numbers into the computer as well as manipulating the motherboards for the computer.  They’d had some limited success isolating photons in the computer models, and he had a veritable treasure trove of data to further manipulate the constructs of time within the vacuum tube.

But Emma stubbornly showed up at each lab session and didn’t open her own books until several equations were queued up.  Killian admired the tenacity, and he certainly appreciated her company at every available moment, but he also saw the dark circles under her eyes and the tired gaze as she highlighted and made notes in the books.  

He wanted her with him, but he didn’t want her to get sick, either.

“Emma, luv, what do you have left to do tonight?” he asked hesitantly.  Depending on how frustrated she was with the subject matter, this could be a minefield.

She didn’t even look up from the paragraph she was highlighting.  “Just need to study for an hour or so, and then I’m going to work on my final paper for philosophy.”  Emma groaned loudly at the prospect.

Killian waited.  If that was all she had to do, she wouldn’t be starting now - Emma was a queen at procrastinating.

“And then I need to copy my notes for my speech tomorrow and finish the conclusion on my physics lab report.”  Emma did look up this time, and her nose scrunched up at the prospect.

“Did you want some help with that?”

She shook her head.  “Nah, I think I’ve got this one.  But you should come with me to…”  The computer beeped and interrupted her.

“I can get that, luv.  You keep worki-”

“-I’ve got it!”  Emma glared at him as she uncurled from the nest she’d made in the corner with a blanket and pillow and stomped over to the computer.

Killian raised his hands defensively and turned back to his own work.

Twenty minutes later, and Killian happened to look up, his thoughts wandering far from the numbers and to the stubborn lass he was coming to understand he had real feelings for.

She was sound asleep, her chin perched on one knee and her highlighter resting in the binding of the book.  There was a haphazard line drawn across the whole page.

Killian smiled softly and eased off his lab stool quietly.  His shoes long-ago kicked off, he padded over to the computer in his socked feet and turned off the speakers before the experiment could finish and wake her.  He input a new set of numbers into the queue and scowled at the number of red “x”’s on the data output.  Killian pushed his glasses more securely on the bridge of his nose and sighed audibly.  He needed to successfully manipulate a photon if he were ever going to move this experiment up to large scale tests.

His next stop was at Emma’s side, taking a moment to cap her marker and close the book with a scrap of paper marking her place.  She looked softer, somehow, like this - the weight of the world gone from her shoulders and the walls and distrust she presented to the world outside the lab and his arms nonexistent in sleep.  Killian brushed the hair out of her face gently, tucking the strands behind her ear and just memorizing the look of serenity.

He wanted her to look this way when she was awake, too.

Setting the timer on his phone, Killian vowed to let her sleep until the top of the hour - forty minutes from now - and then he’d wake her and insist she join him at the library.  He wasn’t making any progress tonight anyway.  He could use the study time, himself, lest the rest of his classes suffer.

Killian didn’t intend to get caught up in the numbers, didn’t intend to follow a rabbit trail until one section of his equation went emerald green, didn’t intend to lose all track of reality.

But he did.

And it was three hours after he’d intended to wake Emma from her nap.

His own stomach growling, Killian changed his plan from the library to the cafeteria.  He knelt down next to where Emma had managed to sprawl out across the floor, her head pillowed on the blanket and the actual pillow she’d brought cushioning her knee.

“Emma?” he whispered, reaching out to shake her shoulder lightly.

“Wha- wha’s goin’ on?”  He smirked, waiting for her to wake up fully.

When she shot straight up, knocking her head into his chin and sending them both reeling, Killian wasn’t entirely prepared.

“What the hell, Jones?!? What time is it?” she yelled, rubbing at her forehead where it must have hit him.

Killian was seeing stars.  His head was spinning and the numbers that he’d kept carefully at bay were all scattered around the room.  He tried to herd them back into the order they’d been, when he’d been on the cusp of a breakthrough, but they were lost.

“Bloody hell!” he howled, the ache on his chin compounded by the clenching of his jaw muscles.  It was gone.  It was all gone again.

“You let me sleep for three hours?!” Emma yelled in his face, shaking her phone as if he didn’t know what time it was.  “You knew how much work I had to do!”

Killian saw red.

“I _told_ you I didn’t need you to help me!” he yelled back.  “I _told_ you that you could go do your work elsewhere!   _You’re_ the one who chose to stay here and fall asleep, Swan.  Don’t blame that on me!”

“You’re the one who let me sleep for so damn long, Jones!  What were you thinking?  What was _I_ thinking, coming here trying to help _you?_  I was trying to help despite everything I need to do.  Damn it, Killian!  Your crusade is going to screw with my grades now!”

“My _crusade_?” he shouted angrily.  “This isn’t some _crusade_ , Swan!  This is my life, and if you can’t understand that, then you can just leave me the bloody hell alone!”

Emma growled and shoved him backwards.  Killian stumbled, but it only served to fuel the fire further.  

“I’m _trying_ to help you!  I’m trying to make sure you succeed!  You’re just being an ass about it.”  Emma popped a hip and glared

Killian lost it.  “I don’t need you here!  You’re just slowing me down!” he seethed.  He didn’t believe it, but he wasn’t exactly in control at the moment.

“I’m slowing you down?” she called back incredulously.  “I am?! Me! I’m slowing _you_ down?  Fine!  Go ahead and do it all without me then!”

Emma bent to shove all of her belongings in her bag, then stormed past him.  She knocked the _Storybrooke University: All Happy Endings Begin HERE_ mug full of mechanical pencils off the bench as the door slammed shut behind her.

The silence in the room assaulted Killian’s ears and he slumped down against the wall.  He stared at the closed door, silently fuming.  He didn’t even know what they were fighting about, couldn’t make sense of how everything had escalated so quickly.  But he knew one thing for certain.  He hadn’t needed her before, and he didn’t need her now.  Killian was better off alone with his numbers.

If Emma Swan wanted to be like that, then she could just stay gone.

 


	6. To Mourn and to Dance

 

**_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/165836618337/im-sorry-sir-did-you-need-something-killian)!_**

* * *

* * *

“Mr. Jones, could I speak with you a moment after class?” Dr. Hopper queried as Killian slunk into the back of the lecture hall just moments before the class was scheduled to start.

He sighed and pinched his nose against the headache that ramped up at the thought of speaking with his advisor.  When Hopper called his name again, Killian nodded and took his seat.  He knew what the conversation would be about, and he had no patience for it - or anything else - at the moment.

Was it too much to pray that one of the other students would have questions about their final lab session or the upcoming final?

Apparently the answer to that was yes, as the lecture ended and the upperclassmen around Killian filed dutifully out of the hall.  A few of them threw sympathetic looks over their shoulders at Killian as they left, but no one came to his rescue.

Dragging his feet literally as well as figuratively, Killian weaved his way through the chairs until he reached the front of the room.  “You wanted to see me, Professor?” he asked in such a resigned tone that Dr. Hopper laughed jovially.

“Oh, Killian, don’t sound so petulant.  I know you’re upset about the funding that I promised you.  But I might have an idea about that.”

Killian looked up abruptly, his eyes wide with anticipation.

But Hopper shook his head.  “That’s not what I wanted to speak with you about.  I’m still greasing some wheels on that end.  No, I wanted to ask about Miss Swan.  She hasn’t submitted hours in the past two weeks, and with the end of the semester approaching, I wanted to make sure she gets her last paycheck.”

And with that, Killian deflated.  Of course she hadn’t turned in an hours sheet to the Physics department - she hadn’t seen the inside of the lab in more than two weeks.  Because of him.

“Oh,” he deflected.  “Emma had some rather time-consuming papers that she had to complete before the end of the semester, so I told her that she didn’t need to keep working in the lab.”

His advisor looked at him skeptically.  “You told her she could work on her own projects, or you let her go because you weren’t going to get your way with my promise?  Because if you got rid of her just because you weren’t getting your way, I’ll be very disappointed.”

Hot anger flashed through Killian.  How _dare_ Hopper think that he would shun Emma because of his own disappointment?  He knew Emma needed the money that being his lab assistant gave her.  But if she was too stubborn to apologize for shouting at him and storming off, then obviously she didn’t need the money that badly.

“No, sir,” he responded as curtly as he was able without being disrespectful.  “That’s not what happened.”

The professor kept his gaze locked on Killian for what seemed an eternity.  Whatever he was looking for, Dr. Hopper seemed to believe him.  “Very well.  Tell Miss Swan that if she intends to work with you over the summer, she’ll need to check in with me before exams begin.”

Killian nodded once, just barely managing to keep his temper in check as he turned to go.

“Oh, and Killian?”  Dr. Hopper called out before Killian could make his escape.

“Yes, sir?”  The tone of his voice was still cold.

Hopper either ignored it or didn’t notice.  “Do remind Miss Swan that she needs to actually attend my class if she wants to get class participation credit for the final.  I heard from her friend that she’s been ill, but she’ll need to make up some of her work if she intends to pass this semester.”

A tendril of concern wrapped around Killian’s heart and squeezed.  He wondered if Emma was blatantly skipping the physics class in her anger, or if she’d actually come down with some kind of illness.  He honestly didn’t know, and that tore at Killian in a way he had hoped it wouldn’t.

He was supposed to be angry at her.  He wasn’t supposed to care anymore.   _She_ had walked out on _him_.

But Killian couldn’t ignore the simple truth of the matter - he _missed_ her.

The equation still danced for him, but Killian couldn’t find the drive to manipulate it.  The computer model still spit out results from his photon experiments, but inputting the new variables seemed to be that much more arduous.  The hours in the lab still produced more complex motherboards that he’d cobbled together in order to make an eventual prototype, but the time just seemed to drag on.

Things were different now, and it was all Emma’s fault.

Killian slumped down on a bench halfway down the hall from Hopper’s lecture room.  No, that wasn’t fair, he knew. It wasn’t all Emma’s fault.

It was his, too.

But it didn’t change the matter.  She’d left him behind and he’d just have to figure out how to go back to how it used to be.

He sat forward on the hard, wooden seat and dropped his head into his hands.  Suddenly, it felt too heavy to hold up on its own, too much on his shoulders.  Killian gripped his hair hard, pulling until the sharp pains at the roots was brighter than the anger, the frustration, the helplessness.

“Now what’s that going to solve?” a familiar sounding voice asked.

Killian looked up in surprise - both at the accent that he would swear came from his hometown, only diluted somewhat, and at how quickly the old man had snuck up on him.  He must be a professor at the school, his clothes just a little bit askew as if he’d spent the last few hours lecturing animatedly.  The man’s face was familiar as well, though Killian knew he had never taken a class with him at the smartboard.

“I’m sorry, sir, did you need something?” Killian asked irritatedly, his brother’s voice in his ear admonishing him for the tone.

 _I’m being as much of a gentleman as I can, Liam,_ he snarked at the internal monologue, _so sod off._

“It looks like you need my help more than I need yours, son,” the old man answered him.  “What’s vexing you so?”

Killian didn’t know what it was, why he was so comfortable sitting next to this man when he usually shied away from any kind of human contact.  Their knees knocked together as he shifted, tossing himself carelessly back against the bench and sliding down just a little bit further.  “There’s this girl…” he began with no real intention to finish his thought.

The old man laughed.  “There always is, m’boy.  There always is.  You want to tell me about it?”

To his surprise, Killian did.

They sat in silence for awhile, Killian mulling over his thoughts and the old man content to rest next to him.  “She’s insufferable,” he finally settled on.

A bark of laughter was his answer.  “Is she truly?” the man asked with a smirk - as if he already knew the answer.

“Yes!” Killian exclaimed.  “She’s stubborn.  And opinionated.  And bloody infuriating!”

“Sounds like an awful specimen, then,” the professor observed.

Killian scoffed.  “She most certainly is _not!_  You don’t know Emma at all!  She’s had a hard life, and she’s made something of it, too!  At any moment she could have rolled over and given up, with all she’s been through.  But she _didn’t_ !  And to top it all off, for some bloody _insane_ reason, she cares about _me!_ ”

He stood up angrily and started to pace back and forth in front of the old man.  “She makes sure I’ve eaten, and she can read my chicken scratch.  Her smile brightens the room and the color of her eyes, it's just... it's _right_ , you know?  She knows about Liam, and what I’m trying to do, and she _believes me_.”

Killian turned to face the old man, seething now.  “ _You_ don’t know a _bloody thing_ about her, and I’ll thank you not to disparage her so!”

The man bowed his head in acknowledgement.  “Sounds like you don’t really find her insufferable then?” he asked.

“N-no.  No, she’s brilliant.  Amazing.  And for whatever reason, she seems to like me, too.  Or at least, she did.  Until I mucked it all up.”  Killian deflated quickly, sinking back down next to the professor and dropping his head to his hands again.  The pads of his glasses cut into his nose, but he ignored it.  This time, when he pulled at his hair, it was in self-flagellation.  “She won’t come back, not after the way I treated her.  My Emma’s too strong for that.  She’s too bloody stubborn.  It’s the only way she could handle me, I’m sure.  But now, I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t you?” the old man asked quietly.  “I would think that a young man as smart as you would know that a man unwilling to fight for what he wants…”

“... deserves what he gets,” Killian finished quietly, an astonished look on his face as he turned to meet the professor’s gaze.  A fist gripped his heart, one that tightened its grip any time he thought of Liam.  “My brother used to say that.”

The professor nodded.  “Sounds like your brother’s as smart as you are, then,” he said with a wistful smile that Killian didn’t quite understand.

“He was,” Killian admitted quietly.  “I miss him so much.”

“And I’m sure you’ll see him again, young man.  But you don’t want to be old and decrepit like me by the time you do, do you?”  He waved a hand over himself as if he were indicating everything.

Killian stared for a moment longer before he shook his head reluctantly.  No, he couldn’t imagine waiting that long to see Liam again.  He had to get back to the numbers, he _had_ to find a way to make his equation work.

He needed Emma to keep him on task.

“I’ve… I’ve got to go, sir,” Killian claimed excitedly, stumbling back to his feet, already planning on how to apologize to Emma.   He had made it three steps down the hall when Liam’s voice in his head admonished him again about being a gentleman.  “Did you need something before I go, sir?”

The old man shook his head ‘no’ with a laugh.  “Go get the girl, Jones.  Counting on you to do it right,” he replied enigmatically before levering himself to his feet.  Killian reached out a hand to steady him, taking the man’s hand in his own.

It was only then that Killian noticed.

The old man’s left hand was a cleverly designed prosthetic.

Killian tore his eyes away from the synthetic materials, focusing on the man’s dimpled, knowing smile instead.  The prosthetic rose until it was in his line of sight again.  “Don’t you worry on this too much, Jones.  If things go as planned, it may be no more than a memory.  But it was worth it.  Things like this are worth the risk.  Don’t forget that.”

Killian continued to stare, speechless, as he tried to process the mysterious words.  When the old man’s eyebrow rose, he stumbled through an affirmation that he wouldn’t forget it.  How could he?  The chance meeting with this man was taking an odd turn that quieted even the ever-persistent equation.

The old man nodded succinctly before heading down the hall away from the classrooms.  Killian caught the man’s last mutterings before he disappeared from view.  “My time here’s come to an end.  I think I’ve done all I meant to.”

Killian had a sneaking suspicion that this was the most important meeting he’d ever had, and he didn’t even know the professor’s name.

An hour later, and he was starting to get frustrated.  Emma wasn’t at her dorm room - and her roommate was scarily threatening as she filed her nails and told him he if he needed her help to find Emma then he didn’t deserve her.  She wasn’t at the library.  She wasn’t in class - he knew her schedule better than his own.  She definitely wasn’t in their physics lab - though he checked just to make sure.  She wasn’t in the cafeteria or on the quad or with her advisor.

Killian was almost certain that she wasn’t anywhere on campus.

And then a kernel of hope blossomed in his chest when he really thought about Ruby’s threat.

Killian was a bundle of nerves by the time the shuttle into town meandered back to the stop on campus.  He threw himself impatiently into the first open seat and tried to bat away the numbers without looking too crazy.  His knee bounced wildly as he waited for the other students to get on and then off at various stops.

He sprinted down the stairs and away from the shuttle the second the doors opened, the admonishment from the driver lost in the jumbled thoughts in his head.  A quick stop at Granny’s just to make sure Emma wasn’t there, either, and Killian’s hopes began to soar.

He knew exactly where Emma was.

The tide was higher than Killian had ever seen it, the waves rolling against the sand with a soothing rhythm that called to him.  The sky was overcast, the reflection of the clouds making the ocean seem darker, more at odds with the shore.  There was a bite to the wind, the temperature not quite warm enough for a leisurely walk in the surf.

But that wasn’t why Killian was here, anyway.

He was here for the huddled form curled up on the boulder just beyond the surf line.  Killian’s fingers tightened in the blanket he’d brought along just in case, itching to wrap it around her shoulders and make sure she wasn’t going to catch a chill.  He had seen the rubbish bin in her room, overflowing with wadded up tissues.  His Emma was still ill; she should be somewhere warm and comfortable.  Not someplace as cold and unforgiving as their boulder was.

But it didn’t surprise him in the least that she was here.

His heart in his throat, Killian ambled up the beach, coming to a stop at the base of their spot, nervous now more than excited.  He’d found her, yes, but that didn’t mean she wanted him here.

“Hi,” he whispered, his stare locked on the way her arms wrapped tightly around her shins.  Killian was terrified to meet her gaze, terrified of what he’d see reflected there.

Emma’s fingers tightened at his salutation, so he knew she’d heard him.

“I… I thought you might be cold.”  Killian offered up the blanket, toeing a line in the sand.

It seemed like an eternity before he felt her chilled fingers brush his own.  “Thank you,” she whispered back.

Killian smiled tremulously, unsure of where to go from here.

“How did you find me?” she asked, a hint of ice in her words.  Killian flinched involuntarily before she continued, mostly to herself.  “I bet Ruby told you, the traitor.”

He shook his head.  “I’ve been all over campus looking for you, lu… Swan.  Then I just knew you’d be here.”

“Why’d you bother?” The ice was gone, replaced by defeat.

It cut through Killian like a knife.  He gulped and chanced a look upwards.

Emma’s head was bent so far forward that her chin rested on her chest.  If possible, Killian felt worse than he had when she’d been angry with him.  She didn’t deserve to have felt like this.  Not because of him, and not because of all those people before him who had let her down.

“Because I needed to find you.  I missed you.”

Emma’s head shot up at that, her green eyes laser-sharp as they read into his words.

Killian stood stock-still, letting her search his gaze and find what she needed to see - that he’d spoken the simple truth.

It took her a few moments, time crawling by as Killian counted his heartbeats and held his breath.  This would make or break them - make or break _him_ \- and his every sense was trained on her.  On what she would say next.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said quietly, finally.

The breath left his lungs in an audible whoosh, the relief leaving him shaky.  “I’m sorry, too, luv.  I didn’t mean any of it.”

The smile didn’t quite reach Emma’s eyes, but it was a start.  She shook out the blanket and draped it over her shoulders.  “Get up here, Jones, before you freeze.”

Killian didn’t need any further prompting, scrambling up the rock until he was tucked under the warm fleece, pressed shoulder to knee against Emma.  She dropped her head to his shoulder and once he took the corner of the blanket from her, Emma wrapped her arm around his back, tucking her cold fingers under the hem of his sweatshirt to latch onto his belt.  His own hand dropped to her knee, his thumb tracing nonsense over her knee cap.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there before Emma started shivering again.  Killian sat up, away from the scant warmth that they’d created between them, and wrapped the blanket fully around her.  She watched him warily as he slid back down to the sand, stumbling a little on the uneven ground.

Killian turned to face her and tugged at her ankle until she had no choice but to follow him off the rock.  When Emma stood in front of him, her chin raised defiantly, he wrapped his arms around her and tugged her into his chest.  Killian’s hands rubbed up and down her back, trying to give her just a little bit more warmth.

“Let’s go get you warmed up, luv,” he murmured into the crown of her head.  “I’m sure Granny’s got a mug of hot cocoa with your name on it.  Maybe some onion rings too, aye?”

The smile he got in payment twinkled in the depths of Emma’s eyes, and it settled the unrest that had plagued him for weeks.

“Your treat, Jones,” she called before racing to the boardwalk.

* * *

Emma was sitting at her desk, staring at the numbers on the paper in front of her with dismay.  She simply didn’t think she could afford to stay on campus and take classes through the entire summer semester, and she definitely couldn’t afford to find an apartment off campus and work full-time.  Not for the first time, Emma Swan wished futilely that someone had taken the chance on a lost, broken little girl who didn’t matter and never would.  If someone had, even if they weren’t perfect, even if they were neglectful or worse, then maybe she wouldn’t be damned if she did and damned if she didn’t now.  Surely a foster parent or two out there in it for the paycheck would have agreed to rent her bedroom back to her for less than what it would cost for an entire apartment.

But no one had.  And now Emma, lost girl extraordinaire, had to figure out a plan that didn’t involve begging for Granny’s charity or setting herself up to fail down the road.

She threw the pen she’d been fiddling with across the room.

Dropping her head in her hands, Emma focused on her breathing and not the sting of frustration that was making her eyes suspiciously watery.  She’d figure this out; she’d always managed on her own before, and she could do it now.  If she had to take out larger student loans, then she’d just have to hope that the job she got after college would-

-a knock on the door startled her badly.

Emma was tempted to ignore it, tempted to climb up into her lofted bed and forget the world existed.

“Swan?  Are you in there?” Killian’s voice was muffled through the door, but the accent rolled over her frustration and brought a smile to her face instead.

The screech of her chair sliding back against the scuffed tile stopped Killian’s second call through the door, and Emma leaned over to yank the door open.

He was standing just to the side of the doorjamb, shifting from foot to foot nervously.  Emma knew that if his hands weren’t full, he’d be scratching behind his ear.

But his hands _were_ full, a plastic bag with takeout containers in one and a tray of drinks and highlighters in the other.

“I thought you could use some study materials,” he answered her unspoken question.  “Can I come in?”

Emma nodded, smiling, as she shoved the door open further to let him enter.  The slam of the heavy door echoed through the room as she moved towards the creaky futon and took the bag of food from him.  She could smell the grease through the styrofoam and her stomach growled.  “I thought this was my job?” she asked wryly.

“Aye, luv, it was.  But it’s mine… or at least, I hope it’s mine now, too,” he responded, grabbing a stack of books from her desk.  “I thought a grilled cheese from Granny’s might motivate you to study harder.”

“Fries?” she asked.

Killian laughed under his breath, and Emma thought she detected a hint of nerves.  “Onion rings.”

“Good,” she grinned at him as he moved towards her.  “I was just testing you.”

Killian’s smile was definitely tinged with relief, and it reminded her that he still felt guilty over their fight.  Emma opened the boxes on the mismatched ottoman in front of the futon, then reached out a hand to him.  He tucked her books under one arm and then tangled their fingers together.  There was a spark there that traveled up her arm and caused her to tighten her grip reflexively.  The smile that he graced her with was boyish and innocent, but free of the guilt she’d caused.

Emma tugged him towards her, her free hand coming up to brush along his jaw.  “Thank you,” she whispered with a nod.

Killian dropped his head down so that their foreheads touched and Emma could feel his breath wafting across her cheeks.  They stood like that for awhile, the silence around them comfortable rather than charged.  It was almost enough to make Emma forget about her money troubles.

Almost.

“The food’s going to get cold, luv,” Killian jutted his chin towards the greasy lunch he’d brought.

Emma sighed and stepped out of his embrace, watching him drop down on the futon and toss her books on the floor.  She had just turned to take her seat when Killian’s arm snuck around her waist and dragged her down to sit between his legs.  She tensed for a moment at the change in position, but then melted into his chest, finally relaxing.  Killian let her get comfortable - poking and prodding and fidgeting until she was content - while holding back a laugh.  When Emma finally settled, he reached for their food, balancing it on one knee while he wrapped his arm back around her waist.

“Do you have any plans for the summer yet?” he asked when their meal was long gone and she’d been ignoring her textbooks in favor of snuggling.  The relaxed atmosphere fled from the room like it was a vacuum and Emma tensed up immediately.  

Killian noticed the change right away.  “Have I said something wrong?” he asked hesitantly, playing with the ends of her hair.

Emma let him drag her back to the safety of his embrace and tucked her head under his chin.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she began.  Once she started, it all came tumbling out.  “I planned on taking classes and staying on campus, but I didn’t realize just how expensive it would be.  Then I thought about looking for a full-time job instead, but apartments are so expensive this close to the water and I need to stay close enough to walk to my job.”

“Does your work-study job not run over the summer?” he tried.

Emma nodded.  “It does, but it’s not enough to pay for everything.”

Killian’s arms tightened around her.  “Would you… would you consider coming back to work with me?”

Emma’s head shot up and clipped his chin.  They both cried out.  Emma clenched her eyes shut against the pain, but the next thing she felt was his lips on her forehead.  She sighed at the contact, soothed by his closeness and his care.

“I didn’t think you’d get violent over the suggestion, luv,” he commented wryly, his fingers running over where he’d kissed.

Emma tilted her head back more carefully this time.  “You’re staying, too?” she asked hesitantly.

She saw the way his eyes darkened, could see the barely contained anger in his depths.  “Aye.  I’ll not go home again unless they make me.”

“That bad?” she asked, reaching up to run her finger over the scar on his cheek.  “You never talk about it.”

Killian nodded, turning his head so he could kiss her knuckles.  “My father and I don’t exactly have the same… outlook on my future.  It’s better if we’ve got an ocean between us.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said softly, laying her head back on his chest.

“Let’s not let him ruin our evening, Swan.  The job’s still there if you want it.  I wouldn’t have anyone else but you there to help me.”

Emma smiled.  The extra pay from being his assistant would make it possible for her to stay.  “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

Killian practically melted into the corner of the futon, relief making him relax.  “Good.  Now, let’s take a look at your physics notes, shall we?”

She nodded, trying to focus on the way Killian made physics truly come alive.  Her eyelids drooped as he spoke, the easy timbre of his voice soothing.

Emma woke with a start, her roommate’s grinning face inches from her own.  

“Go back to sleep, lovebugs.  Just wanted to make sure you didn’t freeze to death,” Ruby whispered, tucking the heavy blanket from Emma’s bed over the two of them.

Emma tangled her fingers in the material and rolled, squashing her face back into Killian’s chest and ignoring the deep chuckle that she felt more than heard.  She groaned as he started to shift around.

“I should go, luv,” he mumbled quietly.  “It’s getting late.”

Emma growled a little, tangling her legs in his and snagging the material of his shirt in her fingers.  “No,” she whined.

“Emma,” he tried again.  “It’s nearly midnight.”

“Don’t care,” she grumbled into his shirt.

Killian sighed under her ear and ran his hands up and down her back.  “Sw-”

“Stay,” she demanded.

Emma could hear Ruby chuckling in the background.  “I’m going back to Victor’s.  Enjoy your night, kids.”

“See,” Emma waved a hand towards where she thought Ruby was standing, “you can stay.”

She was entirely too awake for how exhausted she felt, and Emma was starting to get annoyed with the human pillow beneath her head.

“I’m not a mattress, Swan.  You need to sleep in a bed.”

Emma huffed, then stood abruptly.  

“Fine,” she pouted, grabbing the blanket in one hand and Killian’s forearm with the other.  “Let’s go, Jones.”

He stumbled to his feet, swaying with the swift change in position, then reached for his jacket.

“Nope, don’t need that,” Emma directed, tugging him towards her ladder.  “Up.  You get the wall.”

“Emma,” he squeaked.

“Sleeping, Jones.  Now go,” she demanded, piling the blanket into his arms.

She hadn’t opened her eyes the entire time.

Emma grinned when she heard Killian’s shoes hit the tile and then his socked feet padding up the rungs of the ladder.

His shirt landed on her head and she squawked despite herself.

 _Two could play at that game_ , she thought.  When she clambered over the side of her bed a moment later, the sharp intake of breath was well worth the step outside of her comfort zone.

Emma was wearing Killian’s shirt - and _only_ Killian’s shirt - as she pulled the sheets that she’d kicked off that morning over both their shoulders.  She settled in against his chest again, her head tucked against his collarbone and her hand over his heart.

“Relax, Jones,” Emma admonished when the muscles in his arms tensed at the contact.  “We’re just sleeping.”

Killian made some kind of aborted noise again when she trapped his knee with her legs.

“You’re… you’re wearing my shirt,” he whispered, and she could hear the awe coloring every word.

“Yep,” she acknowledged, ignoring the way her heart raced.  “And you’re not getting it back, either.”

Killian was shaking a little, and Emma picked her head up to look at him.  “Killian, if you’re really not comfortable here, I’m not-”

“No, luv, it’s not that.  I just… never really saw myself here.”  He shrugged as well as he was able and looked away.  “I’ve never… you’re the first gir-woman who’s given me a second glance.”

Emma smiled and settled back down.  “Well then they’re fools, Killian.  But just so you know, you’re the first guy I’ve allowed to sleep the night away in my bed, too.”

He seemed to relax at that.

“Okay?” she asked, sleep dragging her under once more.

Killian clasped her hand in his and wrapped his other arm around her back, tugging her more fully into his side.  “Aye, okay.”

Killian woke slowly, surprised at the sunlight assaulting his eyelids.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept through the night without a nightmare or six interrupting him.  He was musing on the change that led to his restful sleep when the weight at his side started to move and grumbled unintelligibly.

He startled for a moment before the events of the night before began to filter into his consciousness.

Emma.

He was sleeping in… _they_ were sleeping in her bed.

“Too early, Jones,” she mumbled, dragging the covers further up and over her head.  “Go back to sleep.  No numbers yet.”

He smirked.  “As you wish, luv,” he whispered back.  

Killian ran his fingers through her hair until her breathing evened out again.  She fell back to sleep easily, but he wasn’t quite so lucky.  The collar of her… _his_ shirt had slipped over her shoulder and the skin there had him transfixed.  He wanted to reach out and touch it, let the pads of his fingers learn how soft her skin was, but he was afraid to wake her back up.

He contented himself with the feeling of her chest rising and falling evenly, the silky strands of her hair tangled in his fingers, the warmth of her legs still trapping his knee.

Eventually, he dozed off, sinking into the stage of half-sleep where he had no control over the dance of numbers.  With nothing more pressing to deal with, he let them run rampant as Emma’s breathing kept him hypnotized.

 _She’s good for you, little brother_ , Liam’s voice echoed through his thoughts, startling him back to wakefulness.   _I’m glad to see you’re starting to move on._

A tear tracked down the side of Killian’s face, unbidden, at his brother’s words.  He _wasn’t_ moving on.  He’d _never_ abandon his brother like that.  Not like their father had abandoned him, taking solace in his work and his whiskey instead of remembering that he still had a boy at home counting on him.

 _No_ , he admonished the voice in his head, _not moving on.  Just… multitasking._

Killian tried to stop thinking about Liam, about how broken their family was without his big brother to run interference.  He concentrated on matching his breathing to Emma’s soft snores and the warmth of her tucked into his side.

He sighed audibly when the numbers began to shift around on the ceiling for him.  He snagged his glasses from the top of Emma’s wardrobe, not really needing them save for habit.

Killian’s eyes were half-closed when the color started to shift.  His breath caught in his throat, and he tried valiantly to let the numbers continue to transpose themselves, refusing to manipulate them himself and chance losing the progress.

It seemed an eternity passed as he waited, drifting with the ebb and flow of the equation like a boat caught on the tide.  The numbers slowly darkened, the cautious yellow giving way to green as everything began to fall into place.

He sat up with a shout a few moments later, tears checked in the corner of his eyes as the entirety of the equation turned a startling shade of emerald.

“Swan!  Emma!” he cried, shaking her despite the glare she was gracing him with clearly showing that she was awake.  “I’ve got it!  I know how to save Liam!”

Emma’s body snapped around so that she was facing him fully.  Her piercing stare caught his attention and held it completely.

His numbers had turned the exact shade of emerald that was looking so hopefully, so happily, at him.


	7. To Cast Stones and to Gather

**_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/166082045407/thank-you-for-being-here-with-me-swan-he)!_**

* * *

* * *

Killian was a veritable flurry of activity, all arms and legs as he tried to scramble over her to get down the ladder.  Emma couldn’t get out of the way fast enough for him, trying to wiggle under him so they could switch places.  She got an elbow to the chin for her trouble.

“Sorry, Swan.  Sorry.  But we’ve got to go!  We’ve got to get to the lab.  I need to… I can… I can see it!  It’s all right there!  Come _on_!”  Killian reached out a hand briefly to brush over the red mark on her chin, but then he was off again, taking the blankets with him as he pitched over the bed’s railing.

Emma heard more than saw the way Killian stumbled down the ladder, having to take three extra steps to right himself before he turned back to the bed and half-climbed the ladder again.

“What are you still doing in bed, luv? Let’s go!”

Emma shook her head and laughed, taking his hand and allowing Killian to guide her over the railing and down the ladder.  He stepped back from the bottom rung, pulling her with him, his arms wrapped firmly around her waist.

She tilted her head back, letting his nose rest behind the shell of her ear for a moment as she reveled in the warmth, the strength that surrounded her.  Emma had half-expected to wake up in the morning terrified to realize she’d pulled Killian into her bed.  She’d expected the need to run far and fast from what was happening to overwhelm her.

She didn’t expect to _want_ this.

Killian pulled away from her far too quickly, grabbing for her hand again and tugging her towards the door.

“Killian!” she exclaimed, pulling her hand from his.

When he turned to face her, he looked like Emma had run over his puppy with a truck and then backed up to do it again.  “Swan?  Don’t you want to-”

“-I do.  Of _course_ I do.  Killian, this is amazing.  I’m so proud of you.  But we’ll go in a minute.  Once I’m wearing _pants_!  And a…” she gestured wildly over her chest, drawing his gaze down to where his shirt draped over her.  “You need a shirt, too.  And shoes.  Definitely shoes.”

Killian finally looked down at himself, bare-chested and wearing only a pair of low-slung sweatpants.  His socked feet peeked out from the cuffs, a hole in one toe and the other sock slipped down until the elastic was wrapped around his arch.  “Oh.  Right.”

Emma laughed lightly, giving him a slight push towards where he’d thrown his jacket the night before.  “Go get dressed.  I’ll meet you in the lab in half an hour.”

“Twenty minutes?” he asked hopefully, one hand stuck in a sleeve.

She shook her head ruefully.  “Fine, twenty minutes.  Now go!”

Killian actually giggled as he rushed out the door.  Emma had never seen him this happy.  A grin broke out on her own face in response and the warmth in her chest was a new feeling.  She was so proud of him.  Emma cared far more about his project than she’d ever thought she could care about anything, and to see it finally coming to fruition made her giddy.

At least, that’s what she _thought_ that warm feeling was.

When she made it to the lab seventeen minutes later, her hair in a messy bun and one boot still unzipped, Killian was already logging into the computer for her.  He was wearing the same sweatpants, _both_ of his sneakers were untied, but at least he’d thrown on a _Merry Men “JAM” 2015_ t-shirt.

Backwards.

“Isn’t the tag of that shirt bothering you?” Emma asked in greeting, smirking at how he barely even looked up from the monitor.

“What?” he asked distractedly, tapping his fingers impatiently on the space bar as the ancient machine booted up.

Emma sidled up next to him, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other reaching up to flick the tag where it peeked out against the hollow of his throat.  He jumped at the contact and then looked down.

“What?” he asked again.

She shook her head.  “Let me do this, you turn your shirt around so you don’t make the discovery of your career looking like a vagabond.”

Killian reluctantly backed up from the computer and let Emma slide in.  She could hear him struggling to right the shirt as she pulled up the theoretical physics program that would simulate his practical equations.

Emma relaxed back against his broad chest as he stepped into her space, his chin on her shoulder and his hands sneaking around her.  She thought he was going to wrap her in his arms again, maybe do something a little cheesier than they already were.

He started typing on the keyboard as soon as the program asked for variable inputs.

Emma rolled her eyes, but stayed where she was as the simulation began to run.  Even after an entire semester of this, she still didn’t really understand - something about capturing a photon and manipulating it so that the string of time bundled up.  He’d called it ‘spooky action at a distance’, and had tried to show her how it would work.

She really didn’t get it, but Killian did and that was what was important.

It was far too early on a Saturday morning, and Killian’s warmth at her back was distracting, so Emma let the science drift away from her and concentrated on her calm breaths measured against his frantic ones.

Killian started bouncing a little bit on the balls of his feet, and the motion startled her.  She reached out and snagged his hand, wrapping their arms together around her waist and beginning to sway back and forth.

He copied the movement immediately.

“Thank you for being here with me, Swan,” he whispered, the scruff on his jaw scratching at her ear.

“Hmm,” she responded, turning her head a bit to nuzzle into his neck.  “Make this ungodly hour up to me later?”

Killian nodded absently, his thumb drawing gentle patterns in her palm.

Then everything stopped.

His thumb stopped moving.

His feet stopped tapping.

His hips stopped swaying.

He stopped breathing.

“It works,” he whispered, his voice little more than a strangled squeak.

Emma’s head whipped around to look at him, alarmed at how pale he looked.  “Killian,” she whispered.

The tears that began to track down his cheeks stopped her.

“It works.  I can save Liam.”  He lost some of the choked tone, but he still wasn’t really breathing.

Emma felt him begin to shake, and she reached out frantically to find the desk chair and slide it behind him.  She had enough presence of mind to lock the tilt feature so that he wouldn’t pitch backwards.  “Sit down.  Killian, sit, come on.  Sit down, please?”

He sank down in the chair, still staring at the computer screen.  Emma gave it a moment’s glance before she turned her attention back to Killian.  There was a bright green checkmark across the screen, as if they needed the visual reminder that all his hard work had finally come to fruition.

Killian’s eyes were glued to the screen, his mouth half-open as the tears ran unchecked.  Emma knelt down at his side, her fingers grasped tightly in his own.  His jaw was working, his mouth opening and closing as if he were trying to form words and just couldn’t manage something as complex as language.

His chest was rising and falling rapidly, soft gasps of air that weren’t really accomplishing anything.

“Killian,” she whispered.  “Hey, look at me.”

She was rewarded with his head tilting towards her, the blue of his eyes accented by the glassy tears that filled them.

Awe.  It was the best - the only - way to explain the look on his face.

Emma smiled gently, reaching up with her free hand to trace the scar on his cheek.  “You did it,” she breathed.

He nodded, and a hesitant smile began to morph his features.  Gone was the pain he’d carried, gone were the worries that he’d never make it work - that he wasn’t smart enough to save Liam.  Killian leaned forward, wrapping his free hand gently around the nape of her neck, and rested his forehead against hers.

It was awkward with the arm of the chair between them and the ache already building in her knees from the tile floor, but Emma wouldn’t have moved for all the money in the world.

But a gentle tug from their clasped hands changed her mind immediately, and she followed the summons up until she was looming over him.  Carefully, mindful of the wheels, Emma climbed onto the chair so that her knees fell just outside his hips.  She draped her arms over his shoulders, her fingers moving to tangle in his hair.  

Killian’s hands moved automatically to her waist, the warmth of his palms against her bare skin where her shirt had ridden up sending a little bit of a jolt through her.  He looked up at her, his eyes flashing a new look, one she hadn’t had the opportunity to catalogue before now.  

It made her feel different - wanted.

“I did it,” he whispered.  “I did it because of you.”

Emma started.  “Killian, I didn’t… I mean… this was all…”

He shook his head and cut her off.  “No, luv.  I can’t explain it, not in any way that will make sense.  But I know I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Emma stared at him for a moment, trying to understand.  He wasn't lying, he truly believed that she had helped him.  She was just Emma, the half-starving college student who could barely tell a proton from a photon.  Never mind that no one had ever actually _needed_ her before.

But Killian did.

He needed her and she needed him, and that made all the difference.

Emma leaned forward until their foreheads met, breathing in the same air and just reveling in the feel of him beneath her in the chair.  Her nose just barely brushed his, the blue of his eyes taking up most of her vision.  She looked for any uncertainty, any reason to stop - to back up and run far from what she was feeling.

"What do you want from me, Jones?" Emma hadn't even realized she'd spoken out loud until he shrugged.  The movement shifted them both impossibly closer.

Killian's smile was soft, his thumbs tracing small circles on her hip bones.  "Just you, Swan.  All I want is you."

That was enough for her.

Emma tilted her head just slightly, letting her nose slide along his until their lips met.  She kissed him once, twice, three times, mirroring the first time he'd kissed her.  Then, she knotted her fingers in his hair until she had a grip strong enough to demand he tilt his head to her liking.

The last thing Emma saw before she closed her eyes and just fell into the kiss was the astonished look in Killian’s eyes.  She felt the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth.  She tasted the salt of his tears.  She smelled the cheap detergent from her sheets that had rubbed off on him.  She heard the little whimper at the back of his throat as she traced the seam of his lips with her tongue.

It seemed for a moment that Killian wouldn’t let her deepen the kiss, and a lump started to form in the pit of her stomach.  Emma had been sure that she hadn’t misread the situation, misread his feelings for her.  She traced his lips again insistently, her fingers knotting just a little bit more tightly at the nape of his neck.

Killian grunted but relaxed almost immediately, finally moving one hand up under her shirt to rest between her shoulder blades.  He pulled Emma closer, his other arm wrapping more firmly around her hips.  He let her in, let her tangle their tongues together as they began to explore how things could be between them, following her lead every step of the way.

Emma trailed her hand down along Killian’s chest, searching for the hem of his shirt blindly as she tried to avoid the need to breathe.  She started to drag the fabric up over his abdomen, her other hand abandoning his hair in favor of the line of-

-the insistent beeping of the computer program startled them both, almost sending Emma toppling out of the chair.

“Bloody hell!” Killian exclaimed, sounding a little out of breath himself. He ran a hand through his hair before scrubbing it over his face angrily.

Emma giggled, startling herself with the sound.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d _giggled_.  Getting her laughter under control proved difficult as Killian’s eyes darted back and forth between her and the computer screen.

The beeping got more shrill, as if it knew it was in danger of being ignored.

Killian outright growled at the machine, trying to reach blindly for the keyboard with one hand while keeping Emma safely on his lap with the other.

She leaned forward and nipped at his ear, rewarded with a strangled noise that was part protest, part warning.  Before Killian could dump them both on the floor and maybe take the computer with them, Emma stood up and moved away from Killian’s searching grasp.

“Later, Jones,” Emma admonished.  “What do we need to do right now?”

The look he gave her told Emma exactly what Killian felt they should be doing at the moment.  She smiled coyly, but then turned his chair so he was fully facing the monitor.  Almost immediately, Emma saw the ‘science gleam’ - as she had dubbed the slightly glazed over look that meant he was thinking too hard - come across Killian’s features.  He took off his glasses absently, scrubbing them with the hem of his shirt as he stared at the screen.

"What do we need to do?"  Emma asked again.  One hand found its way into the back of Killian's hair, scratching lightly at his scalp as she watched his fingers fly over the keys.

There was a ballpoint pen on the desk that he absently picked up between strings of code and spun it between his fingers.  When the computer beeped again, Killian bit the end of the pen and began to type again.  "We'll need to transfer these codes across campus to the photon capture lab and see if we can recreate this in real time.  But we won't be able to get into _that_ lab until Monday, so for now it's just a matter of cleaning up some of these lines.  If you want, luv, why don't you go get us some breakfast?"

Emma leaned over him and pressed a kiss into his hair.  "I'm proud of you," she whispered.

* * *

Killian stared at the professor in front of him, unable to adequately put into words the red that was swirling around his head.  "What do you..." he trailed off, clamping down on his anger and trying to breathe.

"I'm sorry, Killian," Dr. Hopper apologized.  "The University just doesn't have the funds to allocate towards a practical application of your experiment.  They feel as though your work on the theoretical aspects is still too volatile to waste money on turning it into a physical construction.  Time travel is, as you well know, a little too in the realm of science fiction for the accountants."

"Bloody _hell_!" he cried, raking fingers through his hair and tugging painfully at the ends.  "Those bast-"

"-Language!"

"I'm not sorry.  They can't pull their heads far enough out of their _backsides_ to see that what I have isn't bloody _fiction_!  I can do this!  I _have_ done this!"  Killian began to pace, ignoring the burning in his eyes.  He wouldn't give Hopper or anyone the satisfaction of seeing him lose control like _that_.

"I understand your drive for success, Mr. Jones," Archie responded calmly.  "But you have to know that the work you've done in the past three years here is far above and beyond what we would expect of _any_ physics student.  You've done far more than you need to in order to graduate next year, and you're well ahead of schedule."

Killian's jaw dropped.  He knew that he'd never explained to Hopper exactly _why_ he was as driven as he was, but for the man to think that he was only doing this for a grade?  The last time Killian had felt this disheartened, his father had told him if he left for the States, he may as well pick a new last name.

"Then there's nothing to be done?" he asked.  Even to his own ears, he sounded defeated.

"Perhaps during your graduate school years," Hopper deflected, but it sounded like nothing more than an empty promise.  "You still plan on staying here to work on your Master's' degree?"

Killian was tempted to say 'no'.  He was tempted to pack up his entire operation and find a new school to work at - one that would provide him with the materials and the support he needed to make his mission a reality.

But there was one thing that kept him from telling the professor to go to Hell.

 _Emma_.

Emma was here, was well on her way to finishing her freshman year with a GPA high enough to ensure that she would be able to keep her scholarships and grants.  Emma, who he needed even more than he needed the grant money Hopper had promised him.

Emma was at Storybrooke University, so Killian would stay.

"I have another appointment," he mumbled in lieu of an answer.  He didn't really want to say something he'd regret to the man who had mentored him for the last three years.  "Can I still have access to the capture lab once a week over the summer?"

Archie nodded.  "Of course.  And you can keep your slots in the computer lab as well.  Perhaps you can find something else to focus on over the next year - something more... concrete, perhaps?"

He was shaking.  "You mean something more _mainstream_ , don't you?" he sneered.

"Killian..."

"Forget it," he bit out.  "I have to go."

"I _will_ keep trying," Hopper called, but Killian was already halfway out the door.

His temper didn't calm as he rushed across campus.  The warm day had coerced even the most stalwart of students away from their books and computers into the sunshine.  They caused Killian to bob and weave through the quad, stepping over and around the little nests the other students had made on the lawn.

He didn't calm down as he waited impatiently to be granted access to Emma's dorm.  It seemed like the young woman at the desk - he thought he recognized her from his English class - was taking forever to write his name in the book and then fit his ID in the corresponding slot just so.  By the time he made it past the front desk, Killian was fuming again.  He stalked down the hall to the elevator and punched the button angrily.  When the doors didn't open immediately, Killian began to pace back and forth.  The floor number lit up above the doors didn't change, and he grew more incensed.

Abandoning the elevators in favor of the stairs, Killian bounded upstairs two at a time, growling every time he passed another giggling freshman heading outside.  He forgot, sometimes, that he was the same age as these underclassmen - the ones whose worst worries were whether or not they could cram for their first final while finishing the paper they'd put off for weeks.

They didn't have to worry about whether or not they'd ever get the means to rescue their only real family from a horrible fate.

Killian finally made it to the floor he was looking for, trying in vain to temper his anger with the promise of the face he was hoping to see.  He knocked on the door insistently, trying to see through the red and seeking the calm he relied on most days.

Emma yanked open the door, her hair damp and piled on top of her head and a toothbrush in her mouth.

It took him a moment to realize that she was standing there in a towel.

In _only_ a towel.

"Oh," he gulped, closing his eyes tightly and turning away.  "I didn't realize... I..."

He felt Emma's smaller hand grasp his own and he let her lead him into the room, eyes still clenched shut.

"Give me a moment," she breathed into his ear, the warm breath making him shudder and nod jerkily.  The back of his knees hit something hard and Killian sat instinctively, Emma's hard desk chair taking his weight.  He sat in silence, listening to Emma move about her space, pulling out drawers and opening her wardrobe door as she gathered clothing for the afternoon.

The next thing he knew, the slide of her fingers through his hair pulled him from replaying his argument with Archie.  He had only just opened his eyes when Emma's lips met his own, coming together in a now familiar dance of dominance and play.

Killian’s senses were overwhelmed with her - the red that had clouded his vision on his frantic trek across campus replaced with a soothing emerald that he only associated with her and his equation.  Their tongues tangled together and his hands came up to frame her face, the softness of her skin under the pads of his fingers still warm from her shower.

Emma made a noise at the back of her throat and tugged on his hair, the sharp retort of pain at the base of his skull fading quickly into a pleasant buzz that raced under his skin.  His eyes fell shut, surrendering himself to the heady feel of her looming over him, directing their kiss as she liked.

When they finally broke apart under the desperate need to breathe, Killian had almost forgotten why he’d come to her in the first place.  She carded her fingers through his hair, brushing the locks away from his face.  He slowly came back to her, opening his eyes as if waking from a dream, her smile filling his vision.

“Feel better?” she whispered with a wry grin.

Killian nodded, unsure of his voice at the moment.

Emma left a soft kiss on his forehead.  “Want to talk about it?”

“They won’t fund the build,” he whispered back, the sting in his eyes back.

He had been _so close_.  He could smell the success.  He could hear Liam’s voice in the back of his head, praising his hard work and telling him that he couldn’t wait to be reunited.  He could practically feel Liam’s arms wrapped around him, congratulating him on making his project a success.

But none of that could happen as long as Killian was stuck in the theoretical.

Killian dropped his head backwards so that he was looking up at her.  She had a sad smile on her face, as if she knew what he was thinking about.  "Did he say there's no hope, or is he still trying?"

He just shook his head.  "I don't know, Hopper seemed to be hopeful that he can find another route, but now he's suggesting that I come up with another project for my independent study next year.  He wanted me to pick something more... mainstream."

Even the word tasted like something gone sour.  Sure, he could spend the next year tweaking his equation while capturing photons to further prove Einstein's theory, but it all seemed so basic.  It didn't keep the numbers flying around his head, and it didn't get him his brother.  And Killian knew Archie well enough - telling the professor about Liam would only make him less likely to go out on a limb for Killian's project.

He could hear the professor's advice now.   _Maybe you should use this year to come to terms with your brother's passing._ Or maybe, _you've never really taken time to yourself, to grieve and learn how to function without your brother._

Killian knew that these things were true.  He'd heard them often enough from the psychiatrist his father had taken him to on their barrister's insistence.  Killian knew that Brennan only followed the suggestion to keep him under his thumb.  It was an expense he wouldn't have put up with otherwise.  But it didn't change what Killian _knew_.  That if he had the time and the effort and the funding, he wouldn't _need_ to mourn Liam's death.

He could _erase it entirely_.

Emma tugged him up so that he was standing, his height no match for the way she stared into him - like she was seeing past all the deflections and the defenses.  He'd never really stood a chance with her.

"We'll find a way," she promised.  "One of Ruby's friends, Mary Margaret, just started dating an upperclassman in the engineering program.  Maybe if you two collaborated, he could use the machine you'll need as _his_ independent study?"

Killian cocked his head to the side and felt one eyebrow raise.  He _had_ planned on farming some of the build out next year, of the chassis at the least.  But if he collaborated with the engineering department _and_ used some comparable but less expensive materials, maybe he could still make it work.  He bent down and rested his forehead against hers.  This close, the emerald of her eyes filled his vision and calmed him considerably.

"You're a lifesaver," he whispered, leaning forward a bit further until they were breathing the same air.  He brushed his lips over hers lightly, smiling when he felt her lips twitch up against his own - he could see her grin in her gaze.

"We'll figure this out, Killian.  You're going to save Liam, I promise."

Killian's eyes closed and he shuddered in relief - surprised that just her words, her vow, could set him that much at ease.

"Now, I'm hungry."  She pulled back and tangled their fingers together, leading him out the door and towards the shuttles.  "Buy me Granny's grilled cheese, Jones."

He'd buy her onion rings, too, if she'd just stick by his side and keep smiling like that.

They worked like that through finals and into the summer semester.  He was routinely successful in the photon capture lab, and his equation continued to produce easily repeatable results.  He should have been ecstatic.

Killian was _beyond_ frustrated.

Emma was the only thing that kept him grounded.  Her steady presence and her ability to get him out of his own head gave him something to focus on other than how easily he could have gotten to Liam by now if it weren't for bureaucratic nonsense.  She was there, and she was strong for him in a way that no one had been since his brother had died.  He didn't want to imagine a time when they weren't together.  He loved to wake up in the morning and meet at the cafeteria for breakfast.  He loved even more the mornings where he woke up with her hair plastered across his face and the blankets they'd crawled under wrapped tightly around her.  He loved how patiently she’d shown him what else they could do in bed together.  He loved-

Bloody hell, he loved _her_.

Killian didn't know when it had happened.  He didn't know _how_ it had happened without him noticing.  He just knew that he loved her and that it felt like he always had.

But he was terrified of how _she_ felt about _him_.

Emma had told him some of her past, of the people who were supposed to love her and who had failed her instead.  He remembered how frightened she'd looked when he'd first asked her out on a date.  He saw the look in her eyes every once in awhile, the one that spoke of walls and defenses and a fortress that protected her heart from being broken.

Killian would give anything to be allowed inside that fortress.  To be the one she trusted to keep her heart safe.  For now, he would take what she gave him.  Stolen moments of levity, secret looks that might have hinted at a love returned, his hope on a string being tugged along by the woman he loved.

If she’d let him, he’d go to the end of the world for her.   _Or time_ , Killian thought wryly.

For now, he’d just have to show her he was in it for the long haul.  The semester was flying by, Emma wrapped up in her classes and _him_ as much as possible, and Killian planning for graduation and his applications to graduate school.  Emma had urged, cajoled, and then finally demanded that he apply to other colleges with larger budgets, but his heart was here in Maine - and with _her_.

He met Mary Margaret when she joined Emma, Ruby, and three other girls in one of the suites on campus.  Mary Margaret introduced him to David and then she complained to Emma - _often_ \- that Killian spent more time with her boyfriend than she did.

Emma didn’t disagree with her.

He was sitting in the common room of Emma’s suite, waiting for her to get out of class so they could head to the beach for a picnic, when Ruby smacked him upside the head hard enough to dislodge his glasses.

“You know her birthday’s next weekend, right?”

The numbers scattered and his heart rate skyrocketed.  Killian’s eyes shot up to meet Ruby’s smug gaze, and he could feel the way his jaw hung loose.  “Wha-?”

She shook her head.  “I figured she wouldn’t say anything.  But you should do something for her, you know?”

Killian nodded mutely, his brain already racing ahead of Ruby to figure out what his Swan would want.  Certainly not some big party like they’d had for Ruby’s birthday the month before.  The odds of getting all of either his or her roommates out of a suite for a night in and alone was too unlikely to imagine.  He had no money for a night out, and Emma wouldn’t appreciate spending her hard earned money on a pretty dress - as much as he’d love to see her in one.

He turned sad eyes on Ruby, pleading silently for help.

She huffed, exasperated.  “Men.  Fine, I’ll help you, but only because she’s my person.”

Killian grinned.  He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he liked the sentiment.  Emma was most assuredly his ‘person’, too.

“All right, here’s what you’re gonna do, Jones...”

Killian followed Ruby’s directions to the letter over the next week, vowing to find a way to repay her as soon as he could.  Maybe David could help him out…

But that was a battle for later.  Right now, there was a haggard-looking Emma Swan stalking out of her classroom and almost walking right by him.  “Em-”

“I just want to go home and sleep, Killian.  Do you want to come with me?”

 _Bloody hell_ , he thought, she sounded exhausted.  He wanted nothing more than to carry her back to her dorm room and curl up in her bed to watch her sleep.  But he had plans and Ruby might actually kill him if he didn’t follow through.  “Humor me, luv?  I’m sort of… kidnapping you.”

Her eyes cut to his, but he thought he saw a hint of amusement there, mixed in with the drag of the middle of the semester.  “You aren’t taking me to a surprise party, are you?  Because I’m not in the mood.”

He called up every semblance of acting skills he’d ever possessed.  “Surprise party?  For what?  Did I miss someone’s birthday?”

Emma’s eyes narrowed, but she shook her head.  “Never mind, I’m just more tired than I thought.  Don’t mind me.”

Killian wrapped an arm around her and pressed a kiss into her hair.  “I won’t think of it again.  But do you trust me?”

She sighed as if he were putting her out, but she smiled nonetheless and leaned into him.  “Only if you kidnapping me involves dinner.”

He smiled.  “Would you expect anything less?”

 


	8. To Embrace and to Refrain from Embracing

 

**_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/166337631447/he-was-only-a-few-minutes-late-an-inconvenient)!_**

* * *

* * *

Killian led Emma through campus and onto the shuttle, ushering her into a seat and pulling a thermos that had seen better days from his backpack.  She settled in, leaning against his chest when he wrapped an arm around her.

"What's this?" she asked, tugging off her mittens to get a grip on the lid.

"Just some hot chocolate to keep you warm, luv.  I know how you hate the cold."  He smiled and waited patiently, the corners of his mouth ticking up a shade further when she hummed appreciatively at the taste.  It was a good look on him, she thought.

A hint of fire filled her mouth and Emma grinned.  "You didn't forget the cinnamon!"

"Of course not!” he tried to sound affronted, but he was speaking through a grin.  “What do you take me for?"

Emma laughed and tucked her head under his chin.  They rode in silence into town, the bus's other occupants clearly engrossed in their own business.  His heart pounded more fervently as they approached the stop nearest Granny's, she could hear its pace quicken with every moment.

Emma wanted to tell him to relax, but his nerves had set off her own.  She’d been careful not to tell Killian that it was her birthday, didn’t want him to go to any trouble on a day that just reminded her that she had never been good enough for anyone - not even the people who had created her.  

All this day had ever been was a disappointment.  It was better just to move on and forget the day had any significance at all.

A strange feeling settled in Emma’s chest and she was hard pressed to name it.  She shouldn’t be upset - it was just another day and she _was_ spending it with Killian.  Whether or not he knew the significance shouldn’t make a difference.  She’d just have to take the reprieve where she could get it.

Killian stood as the shuttle came to a stop in front of Granny’s diner.  Emma followed him down the steps into the chilly autumn air and hustled past him and the outdoor tables to the front door.

“Come _on_ , Jones.  It’s freezing out here!”

He smiled indulgently and reached over her to hold the door.  “Always depriving me of the opportunity to be a gentleman, aren’t you, luv?”

Emma huffed and allowed him to usher her inside.  She expected the hand at the small of her back to guide her towards one of the booths, but he led them, instead, towards the back stairs.

“Killian?” she asked hesitantly.

His ears turned a little pink.  “Do you trust me, Emma?”

“Yes.”  Her reply was immediate.

A boyish grin lit his face, but then he bit his lip nervously.  “Follow me, then.”

Unsure of where they were going - but never of him, not any more - Emma climbed the stairs behind Killian and was confused when he reached into his backpack for a key.

And a _blindfold_ , she realized a moment later when Killian turned to face her.

“Just for a moment, luv, I promise,” he whispered as the fabric fell over her eyes.  She felt the knot being secured behind her head, but she wasn’t afraid.

Confused, yes.  But she’d follow where he led.

Emma heard the door in front of her open and felt Killian’s fingers tangle with hers.

“A few steps forward, Emma.  Now turn.  Just there.  Wait a moment and you can take off the kerchief.”  His voice was quiet, hesitant.

The door snicked shut behind her and a quiet ‘click’ sounded in front of her.  The noise was familiar, but Emma couldn’t place it at the moment, straining as she was to hear where Killian was.

“Jones?”  It was half question and half warning.

“Now,” he commanded quietly.

Emma pulled off the blindfold and blinked in the soft darkness.  The only light came from two candles - a blue 1 and a red 9 - sticking out from the middle of a cake.

A _birthday cake._

Emma stood, speechless, for a long moment.  Her eyes were glued to the flames in front of her, her mouth working but unable to find words.

“Bloody hell.”

His whisper and his hurried steps startled her out of the shock.  

“I… I shouldn’t have listened to Ruby.  I’m sorry, luv.  We can just… go, if you want.  I should have thought-”

“ _Thank you_ ,” she forced out, still caught up in the emotion of the surprise.  She’d never felt this way before.  No one had ever done anything like this for her before.  “It’s perfect.”

Killian took her hand in his own, brushing a kiss over her knuckles before he moved to swipe away the lone tear that had escaped her usually well-controlled hold on her heart.

“Are you all right?  Truly?”  He sounded frightened, unsure, lost.

Emma just nodded, finally moving to blow out the candles as she made her wish.

 _Please let him love me as much as I love him_.

She blinked and squinted as Killian finally flipped on the lights.  The room was a bit dated, but definitely one of the inn’s rooms for rent.  There were two covered plates and silverware on the little card table he must have sweet talked Granny into setting up for them.  Emma turned to find Killian, but a flash of something shiny caught her attention.

 _HAPPY BIRTHDAY!_ was hung on one wall, the ‘H’ bent and a little bit torn.  The sign wasn’t quite straight, and the streamers that were taped up next to it were in danger of falling off the wall.

It was perfect.

Killian came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder.  “Ruby said you shouted at her last year when she suggested throwing a party, so we thought this would be better.  No surprise party, luv.  I promise.  Just us.”

Emma could feel the tremor in her smile as she turned in his embrace to face him.  “Thank you,” she whispered again.  

“It’s my pleasure, luv.  We should eat before Granny’s good cooking gets cold.”  Killian pulled out a chair for her and helped her sit before he lifted the cover in front of her with a flourish.

There was a grilled cheese and onion rings spread across the plate, a little sprig of something green garnishing the meal.

“I’ve almost forgotten…” he trailed off as he searched in his backpack.  It took him a minute to pull his treasure from the depths, but he finally emerged victorious with a battered pair of candleholders and two tapers.

The noise Emma hadn’t been able to place earlier was the lighter Killian used to light the birthday candles.  He set the pair on the table before he took his own seat and revealed a cheeseburger and fries.  They ate in companionable silence, the quiet only working to put Emma even more at ease.

The cake was clearly store-bought, but it was chocolate and it was the first birthday cake she could remember having that she hadn’t shoplifted for herself.  Emma savored each bite, ignoring the way Killian watched her eat.

“What?” she mumbled through a mouthful.

Killian ducked his head and scratched behind his ear.  “Nothing, Swan.  I’m just happy you like it.”

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, you know.”  She took another bite of cake.

He smiled ruefully back at her.  “I gathered that when Ruby was the one to tell me about your birthday and not you.  I wanted to.”

Emma didn’t have an answer for that.

When they were finished eating, Killian pulled out what was obviously not his laptop and set it up on the bed.  Emma curled into his side, biting back a grin when she saw the flowery desktop image.  “Mary Margaret’s computer?” she asked quietly.

She felt Killian nod against the top of her head.  “Everyone helped a little.  Those were David’s mother’s candlesticks, Ruby convinced her grandmother to let us have the room for the evening, everyone helped.”

Emma felt like she was going to cry again.  She’d never thought…

The DVD player started up and the title screen for _The Princess Bride_ came up.

“Belle said you borrow this book from the library so often that it must be one of your favorites,” he said.  “But I have others if you’d like to watch something else.”

Emma tangled their fingers together and settled in.  “This one, please.”

The kiss he left to the top of her head was accompanied by a soft, “As you wish.”

* * *

 

The look in the police officer’s eyes was a mix of compassion, wariness, and something else that Killian couldn’t quite put his finger on.  It was almost like regret mixed up with anger, but it didn’t really matter.  Nothing really mattered any more.

He looked up without raising his head when the man cleared his throat.  “What do you _want_?” he growled.  Liam would have clapped him upside the head for the disrespectful tone, but Killian had no control over it at the moment.

The officer’s brow rose incredulously, but then his face dropped and Killian thought he looked sad.

“We got a hold of your father, son.”

Killian glared at the moniker.

The man cleared his throat again.  “He said that your br… that _you_ already had adequate transport home and that you could travel by yourself.”

Killian’s head shot up, the familiar feeling of disappointment at his father’s indifference towards him now made worse without Liam as a buffer.

“If you want, we can arrange for a social worker to travel with you as far as the ferry stop in Dublin.”

Somehow, that made the feeling even worse.  Killian shook his head ‘no’ and tried to huddle further into Liam’s jacket.  He’d have to get used to fending for himself soon enough.  No use delaying the inevitable.

“No, sir.  That’s fine.  But I will need a ride back to where we were staying to pick up my things.  I don’t have much money, but I can get a cab from there.”

“We’ll get you to the station at least.  You keep your money.” The officer sounded apologetic when he added under his breath, “It sounds like you’ll need it.”

Killian nodded reluctantly.  “And what about…” he trailed off, the words caught in his throat.

Thankfully, the officer seemed to understand.  “We’ll need to do an autopsy before we can release him.  It will be a few days.  Should give your family time to make arrangements.”

His family?

Killian wanted to rail, to yell that his only family was lying still and cold in a freezer somewhere, alone and half-forgotten already.

But Killian wouldn’t forget him.  No, he was going to save him.

So instead of yelling and letting loose the hold on his anger like he wanted to, Killian just shut down.  He followed the officer to the car and robotically packed his things.  He sat alone in the terminal, clutching his knapsack filled with some of Liam’s shirts and items he was afraid his father would get rid of otherwise.  He crossed the channel in a daze, sitting as alone as he could manage with his arms wrapped around his knees.

His father wasn’t waiting for Killian when he got off the train after the long ferry ride, so he took a cab back to their flat and let himself in.  The darkness and stark silence that greeted him made Killian shiver.  After he hid the knapsack in his closet, he curled up in Liam’s bed, wrapping himself in the warm blankets that still smelled like his brother.

Killian wasn’t sure how long he slept for, his eyes dry and puffy from letting his guard down before he fell asleep.  He had been awoken by the light from the hallway streaming across his face, his father leaning against the doorframe.  Even from across the room, Killian could smell the alcohol.

“It should have been you,” his father slurred before staggering away.

* * *

 

Killian’s eyes shot open, his cheeks surprisingly damp.  Emma was leaning over him, her long hair tickling his neck where the ends brushed back and forth.

“Hey,” she whispered.  “Are you all right?”

 _Was he?_  It wasn’t like his father’s disappointment was anything new.  And it wasn’t like he’d had any reason to even _think_ of the man lately, not with how the evening had gone.  But clearly, his subconscious had had other ideas in mind as he nodded off with Emma tucked into his side, the slide of her skin against his tiring them both out.

“Better now, luv,” he settled on for an answer, smiling a bit tremulously when she reached up to gently brush the tear from his cheek.  Her fingers ghosted over the scar his father had left there and his eyes fluttered shut at the touch.  Killian locked the memories that had disturbed their sleep securely away and-

-Emma’s lips brushed against his, the soft touch startling him a little bit.  Before he could look at her, she kissed each eyelid, then his cheeks, then moved back to slant her lips over his again.

Killian let everything fall away from him then, the memories and the disappointment and the scars that were his upbringing, and concentrated solely on her.  He moved with her, allowing himself to just feel under her gentle ministrations.  Bloody hell, did he love her.

He thought she had drifted back to sleep after they came down together, but her quiet words drifted up to him.

“I never thought it could be like this,” she whispered, her hands wrapping tightly around his forearms when he tugged her back to his chest.  “Before, with other… it was different.  It wasn’t… like this.”

Killian’s heart clenched at the sadness in her tone.  What little he knew of her last few years in the system made him appreciate the stability he’d had in Storybrooke’s accommodations for him.  He may have had to stay in the freshman dorms for most of his tenure there - only just managing to move into the sophomore dorms this semester with Will and his friend John - but at least he didn’t have to contend with irritable foster parents or crass ‘siblings’ who would seek to take advantage of someone like Emma.  Determined to erase those memories from the moment for her the way she had for him, he pulled her closer, burying his nose in the hair just behind her ear.

“If you’ll let me, I’ll make sure it’s always like this from now on,” he whispered back.

Emma turned her head so she could capture his lips with hers.

“Happy birthday, Swan.”

He fell asleep to the sound of her even breathing.

And was awoken hours later by the sound of harsh knocking on the door.  Granny’s voice filtered through the haze.  “Jones! I need this room clean and ready to go in an hour!  Up and at ‘em, boy!”

Emma’s muffled laughter came from his side and he turned to kiss her ‘good morning’.  “Come on, luv.  I’ll buy you breakfast.”

He rushed through getting dressed and cleaning up the room, the sound of the shower running in the background as he did.  It only took him a few minutes to pull down the sign Granny had found for him and to trash the streamers he’d dug out of Mary Margaret’s ‘just in case’ box in her room.  He had just finished packing everything in his knapsack when Emma sidled up behind him and draped herself over his back.

“Thank you again, Killian,” she murmured, the warmth of her skin against his back making him question why they’d gotten out of bed in the first place.  “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

He smiled and turned in her arms so that she was pressed against his chest when his arms came up to wrap around her shoulders.  “Well, I intend to do something like this for you every year from now on.”

“Why?” she asked hesitantly.

Killian smiled down at her, brushing a kiss over her forehead.  “Because I can and I want to.  After all, Swan, I'm just a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to love him.”  The moment the words were out of his mouth, Killian froze.  His heart beat a staccato rhythm in his chest, his breath trapped in his lungs, a chill down his spine.   _Too soon, Jones.  Too bloody soon._

Emma stared at him for a moment before she broke into a grin and pushed up on her toes to kiss him.  Pulling back, she asked, “Did you just quote _Notting Hill_ to me? Who even watched that movie?”

The breath left his lungs in a ‘whoosh’, time speeding up as she stayed where she was.  “I…” he smiled.  “I might have done some research.”

Emma laughed then, a sweet and light sound that Killian wanted to bottle up and take everywhere.  “Into what?  Cheesy chick flicks 101?”

He smiled, but he could feel how it stretched across his face.  His tone was a little more serious than he intended when he replied.

“No, Emma.  Into how to do this.  I’ve never done this before.”

She pulled him in close and whispered in his ear, “You’re doing just fine on your own.”

“I just want to do right by you.”

Emma shuddered.  “Kil-”

“Now, Jones!”  Granny’s voice echoed through the room and both he and Emma jerked apart, searching around the space frantically.

When he was assured that the formidable woman was, indeed, still outside and not breathing down his neck, Killian took Emma by the hand and pulled her into one last hug.  “Come on, luv, let’s leave the charming widow Lucas to her work.”

When she nodded, he picked up his knapsack and guided her towards the door.  Emma kissed him chastely before she bent down to pick up her own bag.

“What is it?” she asked, and it must have seemed to her like he was looking at her as if he was afraid this was all a dream.

It certainly felt like a dream.

Killian smiled, recalling another of the movies he’d watched - huddled in the corner of the library for hours at a time with earbuds jammed in his ears and praying that no one saw what he was studying so intently.  “I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my life the way I feel when I’m with you.”

Emma smirked, but her smile turned soft and she squeezed his hand.

“I am, too,” she whispered before tugging open the door.

The rest of the semester flew by, classes and his application to the graduate program and Emma's constant support at his side making the days seem a little less long and a lot less lonely than his first three years had been.  The nights she wasn't wrapped in his arms were cold and the few hours of sleep he _did_ manage were fraught with nightmares.  Killian hadn't relied on another human being as much as he did Emma since his brother had died, and it frightened him how much she meant to him now.

But it frightened him more to think of what might have happened if Archie hadn't paired them up.

The Thanksgiving break was fast approaching, and Killian was so busy trying to convince David that the engineering department would let him work on a Masters' candidate's project in his senior year that he didn't realize when the University shut down for the long weekend.  All he knew was that the lab door was locked and his research was inside.  Killian banged his forehead on the door and gripped the door handle until his knuckles went white.  He was getting more and more frustrated as the days went by - between the grants he'd been promised getting pulled and the lack of new funding being provided, Killian was starting to think that he'd been a fool to turn down Oxford for the promise of more distance from his father.

"If you stare at that door any harder, Jones, it's going to combust."  Emma's voice echoed down the hallway, but Killian didn't have the wherewithal to lift his head from the door.

He felt her hand fall between his shoulder blades, and the warmth eased some of the tension from him.

"I had a feeling you'd forget the lab would be locked this weekend," she said, her other hand coming up to jangle a jump drive in front of him.  "So I saved all your work to this last night before Dr. Hopper kicked me out."

Killian whipped his head around to stare at her incredulously.  "You... that's my..."

Emma nodded.  

“Take love, multiply it by infinity and take it to the depths of forever… and you still only have a glimpse of how I feel for you,” he quoted from _Meet Joe Black_ , pulling an incredulous smile from her.

“How many movies did you watch?!”

Killian just shrugged, a small smile starting to pull at his mouth.

“Come on.  I have frozen chicken nuggets, instant potatoes, and the suite to ourselves for the next four days.  We're going to have Thanksgiving dinner and then you can try and concentrate on this”- she jiggled the drive again -“while I yell at whatever football team is playing horribly.”

He didn't touch the drive all weekend.

Monday morning, however, began with Emma waking him far too early with plans to spend their last hours alone lazing about in bed and working up a sweat.

Ruby had just stomped into the common room as Killian got out of the shower, Emma discreetly behind him, when he noticed the notification that he had an email from Archie on his phone still thrown haphazardly on the futon.  With his glasses still fogged up from the shower, he had to squint at the screen when he picked it up.

_Mr. Jones, could you please stop in my office this afternoon at 1pm to discuss your ongoing project for the Physics department.  -Archie_

“As much as I like the free show, Killian, I think Emma’s gonna get jealous if that towel slips,” Ruby snarked, startling him out rereading Archie’s words for the fifth time.

He automatically reached for where he’d cinched the towel, his cheeks burning at Ruby’s appreciative growl.  Before she could make another remark, Killian ducked into the bedroom, adopting a glare when he found Emma leaning against her desk with a look that he could only describe as saucy.

“Looking to add a little spice to-”

“Nope!” he interrupted, his whole face aflame now.

Emma swung her hips as she moved across the room to him, her hand coming up over his on the towel.  She stood on her tiptoes so she could whisper in his ear.  “Good.”

They locked the door and missed their first class.

When they finally emerged, Ruby still sprawled out on the futon and grinning maniacally at them, Killian tugged Emma into his side and whispered, “I’ve got another one, if you’ll let me…”

“Oh, go ahead, Jones,” Emma laughed.

“I've come here with no expectations,” he began.  “Only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours.”

She looked impressed.  “ _Sense and Sensibility_?  You really _did_ do your homework.”

“Well, I am an A-student, Swan.  I like a challenge.”  He paused.  “Will you be at the lab after my meeting?”

“Of course.”

With a kiss for luck, Emma finally let him out of her suite and he rushed across campus to get to Archie’s office.  He was only a few minutes late - an inconvenient flock of Canadian geese had waylaid him by chasing him halfway back towards the dorms - but the look on his advisor’s face made it seem like he was hours behind.

“Ah, here he is, now,” Archie gestured wildly at Killian, a proud grin stretched across his face.

Killian’s brow wrinkled, wondering who Hopper was talking to.

And then, like a snake slithering out of its hidey hole, a man stood from where he was perched against the wall and limped into Killian’s line of sight.  He was slight, shorter than Killian was, and hunched with age.  There was something about the man’s eyes that made him seem cold, dark, and untrustworthy.

If Killian were more prone to dramatics, he’d have called the man evil.

Whatever the man wanted here, Killian was determined that he wouldn’t get it.  He entered the room warily, keeping one eye on the stranger as he took his seat on the opposite side of Archie’s desk.  His shoulders tensed when the man came to stand behind him, gnarled hands resting on Killian’s shoulders and keeping him in place.

“Mr. Jones,” Archie spoke as if Killian wasn’t being held against his will in the seat.  “I’d like you to meet Robert Gold of Gold-Pan Financial.”

Killian tried to rise under the guise of being gentlemanly, but the hands tightened imperceptibly and kept him seated.  

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” he forced out through gritted teeth.  “Professor, I can come back if you’re not through here.”

“Nonsense, dearie,” the man finally spoke and Killian forced himself not to shudder.  He wouldn’t give the man the pleasure of knowing how uncomfortable he was.  “I’m here for you, you see.  I’ve been looking for a worthwhile project to invest in for some time now.  My company gets in on the ground floor of endeavors like this, and I’d be happy to fund your entire project.”

Archie was grinning, but Killian frowned.  “And what do you get in return?” he asked warily.

Gold laughed, a high-pitched giggle that set all of Killian’s nerves on edge.  He needed to get out of here.  Soon.

“You’re right, of course, Dr. Hopper.  He is a very intelligent boy”- Killian snarled at being called ‘boy’ as if he were beneath this man -“I would leave all the science to you, my boy.  I know nothing of what you study.  But I would be the one to market your project down the line - for a cut of the profits.  And one more thing,” he trailed off.

 _Here it bloody comes,_ Killian thought angrily.

“I…” Gold choked up a bit.  “I lost my family years ago.  An unfortunate situation that my wife misconstrued.  It was all my fault; I see that now.  But she took my son from me and I’ve not been able to convince them to give me another chance.  My boy is half-grown by now, and I’ve lost them both.  Should your project be successful” - he squeezed Killian’s shoulder again - “all I would require from you is a chance to fix that.  To save my family from the heartbreak we’ve all experienced.”

Killian wanted to gag, but Archie was beaming like Gold had just delivered him the Nobel Prize.  How could he not see that Gold was playing them, playing _him_?

He was already shaking his head before Archie could speak.  “No, that’s not it.  Or at least, that’s not all of it.  There’s some kind of trick here and I’m not buying it.”

Archie’s face dropped.  “Killian, maybe you don’t understand what’s going on here.  You’ll still be in charge, Mr. Gold only wants to make a profit from your future success.  All this allows you to do is get the materials you need without having to deplete the department’s resources.”

He felt like a bobblehead doll as he continued to shake his head no.  “No deal.  Not with the likes of _him_ ,” - Killian stood abruptly and finally shook off Gold’s grip - “I don’t need his blood money.”

“Killian Jones!” Archie exploded angrily.  “I don’t know what your problem is-”

“My _problem_ is that I’m not going to get into bed with a crocodile and expect not to get bitten!  I’ll find another way, without his help!”

“Mr. Jones,” the oily voice behind him cajoled, “this isn’t a lie or a trick.  We can be mutually beneficial to one another with the right deal.  Perhaps it’s just a matter of-”

“-of twisting your words into something that sounds like a red-letter choice.  No.  Thank you, but there won’t be a deal today.”

He stormed out of the room before Archie or Gold could register his absence.

The slamming of the door echoed down the empty hallway, but Killian’s head was too swamped with voices to even register it.  His father’s patent disapproval - _I always knew you’d fail, you lunk.  Don’t come crawling back to me, now._  Archie’s confusion - _This is everything you want, Mr. Jones, I don’t understand._  Emma’s tacit support - _We’ll find another way, Killian, don’t worry._

His brother.

Liam’s voice was echoing above all the others, and Killian couldn’t figure out which was his response and which was Killian’s own jumbled thoughts.

_I’m proud of you, little brother.  Stick to your principles and you’ll be just fine._

_Why haven’t you saved me yet?_

_What are you_ doing _with your life?  You have the world in your hands and it’s slipping through your fingers._

_It’s okay to move on, Killian.  I’m happy for you._

_Is Emma Swan really more important to you than I am?_

Killian needed to find Emma and let her silence the cacophony in his head.  He needed her support now, more than ever.  She’d said she’d meet him at the lab.  That’s where he needed to go.  That’s where everything would make sense again.

“What the hell is _wrong_ with you?” Emma shouted, her voice echoing across the lab as he finished explaining what had happened.  “Archie told you already: there’s not enough money.  They’re pulling your grant entirely.  If you ever want to move this away from the theoretical science, Gold’s deal is the only option.”

Killian threw the pen he’d been fiddling with across the room.  It bounced off the wall and clattered on the tile floor.  “No.  No, there’s got to be another way that doesn’t involve getting into bed with that… that crocodile.  I won’t be beholden to him, Swan.”

Emma threw her hands up in the air.  “Why?  What possible reason could you have for not wanting to accept this man’s money?  He’s already told you he knows nothing about the science and only has an eye for potential and finished projects.  Gold has no intention of slowing you down.  He just wants to _help_ you, Killian!”

“What? Out of the goodness of his heart?” he sneered.  “No, Swan.  No, there’s a catch.  There always is.”

“Of _course_ there is.  He wants to go back and save his family.  Just like _you_ do!  He wants the same thing as you.”

Killian shook his head, surprised that she couldn’t see the man for what he was.  He lowered his tone, almost to a whisper.  “No, he doesn’t.  My brother was torn from me for no reason.  He was mur-murdered.  Gold lost his family fair and square.  Whatever happened, and I have no doubt that he’s lying about it, that man wants to manipulate something.  And I won’t make a deal with him to get what I want when there has to be another way!”

Emma shook her head and her shoulders slumped.  “I don’t understand you.  He just wants the love of his family back.  He just wants another chance to make things better for them.  If I had the chance to have a family, to have grown up knowing that kind of love…” she trailed off and Killian could see the tear as it tracked down her cheek.

He felt horrible.  The last thing he wanted to do was to make her cry.  He knew what she thought family should be.  He knew the hurts that she carried deep inside her weren’t easily healed.  He knew he couldn’t understand what it was like to grow up an orphan.

But she didn’t understand either.  “Just because you have a family, Emma, it doesn’t mean that you know love.  Not every father is capable of loving his wife or his child.”

Killian left it at that, slinking out through the door and leaving behind the regret and, possibly, his entire project.


	9. To Get and to Lose

 

**_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/166577330182/emma-stared-at-the-sign-for-an-inordinate-amount)!_**

* * *

* * *

Emma stared at the open door for a full minute, surprised and dismayed at the defeated slump to Killian’s shoulders when he’d beat a hasty retreat.  Then her brain caught up to the moment and Emma sprinted out the door after him, tears on her cheeks be damned.  He’d looked so lost, so _broken_ by his decision, and he didn’t need to be doubting her feelings for him at the same time.

“Killian!” she shouted down the empty hallway, her boots echoing as they slammed down on the tiles.  He must have been ducked into another room or down a side hall, because there was no way she shouldn’t have caught up to him by now.

And then she saw him, collapsed in a heap on one of the benches in an alcove designed for studying.  His head was in his hands, the barest of tremors visible from where Emma had stopped in her tracks.  As she watched, transfixed, his fingers spasmed and gripped his hair - hard.

“Hey,” she whispered, determined not to startle him.

He didn’t give any indication that he’d heard her.

Emma sat down next to Killian and began to rub his back, the tremors not just in his hands, but running up and down his spine as well.

He still didn’t move.

“Killian, hey,” she tried again, reaching with her free hand to untangle his fingers from his hair.  He fought the intrusion for a moment before he let Emma take his hand in hers.

“I thought you were mad,” he whispered, the barest hint of a sniffle betraying him.

Emma squeezed his fingers, urging him to lean back into her embrace.  His head fit against her collarbone, his hair tickling her nose.

“Not mad,” she corrected.  “Not exactly, anyway.  Just concerned and confused.  This is the answer to your funding problems, and it seems like it’s a good fit.  But if you’re not convinced, if you can’t get on board with this Gold character, then I’m not either.”

Killian’s head came off her shoulder and he stared into her eyes.  It felt like he was looking right into her, reading her as well as he always did.

“We’ll find another way, Killian,” Emma assured him, meeting his eyes and smiling.  “We’re not giving up.”

“We?” he whispered, nodding hopefully.

Emma smiled at him, gently teasing the hair at the nape of his neck.  “We, Jones.   _We’re_ going to save Liam.”

The corner of Killian’s mouth quirked up in some semblance of a grin before it fell flat again.  “I feel like I’m letting him down,” he admitted sadly.

She heaved out a sigh of her own.  “I can tell you that you’re not until I’m blue in the face, but it’s not going to change how you feel right now.  From what you’ve told me about Liam, though, he’s always wanted the best for you, right?”

Killian nodded vehemently.

“Then he wouldn’t want you to compromise who you are to work with Gold.  Not to save him.  You know that, don’t you?”

A less decisive nod.

“Are you giving up?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

Killian looked aghast, but then his face crumpled and he sagged.  “I don’t know what to do, how to fix this.  I can’t… I _can’t_ work with Gold, or for him, rather.  I _won’t_ be beholden to him.  But I don’t know how else to get the materials that we need.  David’s department won’t supply him with enough cesium and palladium for a theoretical build - not when there are subpar materials that will allow for the design if not the reaction and the travel.  I don’t know what to do.”

Emma hugged him close.  “Yet,” she breathed into his ear.

He nodded against her shoulder, but it was a sad, defeated thing.  “Of course, luv.  Yet.”  It didn’t sound like he was agreeing with her.

They sat in silence for a long while, students passing them by with no care for anything outside their own little bubbles.  Emma wasn’t sure what was running through Killian’s head, if he was lost in the numbers or his memories, if he was wracking his brain for more options or berating himself for his stubborn failure.

“Jones?” she spoke up when her legs had gone numb and she was sure he was asleep.

His fingers tightened in hers immediately.  “Yes, luv?”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Wondering when you were going to start cajoling me into taking you to Granny’s.”

She heard the smile in his voice - a small, tentative thing, but something Emma knew she’d caused.

It was a heady feeling.

Emma laughed.  As if it had heard him, her stomach started to growl.

“Now, then,” he answered for her.  Killian pushed himself out of her embrace, the creases on the side of his face from her sweater calling to her.

Emma ran her fingers down the side of his face, sliding over the marks and tracing the scar on his cheek.  “We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

She didn’t tell him then about the project she’d just gotten the green light on from her advisor.

It wasn’t the right time.

But it was starting to eat at her.  Emma felt like she was going behind his back with all of this, digging into his past and Liam’s.

And their father’s.

She’d tell him.  Soon.

As soon as she had some information.

It wasn’t the right time at Granny’s that afternoon, laughing over a shared plate of fried snacks.

It wasn’t the right time during finals week, when they were both so stressed out with exams that they barely had time to do more than collapse together into one of their beds at the end of the day.

It wasn’t the right time when he woke her up on Christmas morning.  They were holed up in one of Granny’s rooms, a present from Ruby and her grandmother to keep both of them from spending the holiday in a ratty motel room since the dorms were locked up tight - as per usual - with no exceptions this year.  The room was warm and bathed in the lights from the little tree on the dresser.

“Good morning,” he whispered with a giddy smile in his words.  “It’s Christmas.”

Emma cracked one eye open, catching sight of that smile and the gleam of the lights dancing in his eyes and on the lenses of his glasses.  “What time is it?”

Killian shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Early.  But it’s Christmas!”

Emma shut her eyes and groaned.  She snuck one hand out of the blankets and groped around until she latched onto Killian’s hand.  “Too early,” she mumbled, trying to drape Killian over her back in the bed.

“Emma,” he whined.

She just kept tugging, rolling over until he was forced to climb into the bed or risk her yanking his shoulder out.  “Sleeping, Jones.”

His put-out sigh was loud in her ear, but Killian wrapped her up in his arms and snuggled close.  “Aye, my love, sleeping.”

His breath was warm as it ghosted over the back of her neck, and Emma fell swiftly back to sleep cuddled up in his love.

When she woke again, Killian was playing with the ends of her hair.  She had rolled over while she slept so that she was tucked against his side, and his scruff was teasing her forehead.  “Merry Christmas, Killian,” she whispered into his chest.

“Happy Christmas, luv.  Are you done sleeping the day away now?”

Emma tugged on his wrist until she could see his watch.  “It’s not even 9 am!”

He chuckled, the sound of it echoing in her ear.  “Half the day is gone!” he joked.

She was sure Killian could feel the eyeroll she graced him with, but she didn’t care.  It was _early, damnit_ , and they had nowhere pressing to be.  She shifted impossibly closer to his side, her fingers coming up to dance over his chest.  “Are you sure you want to get out of bed?” she tried.

This time his laughter was all-out encompassing, and Emma smiled in response.  “I never said anything about getting out of bed, luv,” he assured.

Emma lifted up her head and cocked an eyebrow at him in a poor imitation of his own facial tic.  “You were definitely out of bed when you tried waking me up earlier.”

He shrugged noncommittally.  “Can you blame me?  This is the first Christmas in a long time that I’ve been happy.”

Emma was sure her heart was melting.  “Me, too,” she whispered, reaching up to kiss him gently.

“Now,” he interrupted her from taking that further.  “Presents!”

“Killian!” she squeaked.  “We agreed we weren’t going to spend any money on each other!”

She ignored the little voice in the back of her head that protested against the gift she had wrapped in the bathroom two nights before.  She hadn’t intended to get him anything, the dinner reservation they had the next evening was supposed to be their gift for each other, but she’d been wandering Storybrooke’s shops while he met with one of the local high school’s science classes before their break began, and it had called to her.

Technically, she _hadn’t_ spent any money on him - the shop owner had been all too willing to trade a few hours hard labor stacking boxed inventory in the back of her shop for the gift - but Emma hadn’t wanted to let it go.

“I know we agreed.  And I didn’t spend a single dime on you, I promise.”

Emma side-eyed him hard.

“I promise!”

She stretched again and kissed his cheek.  “Fine.  Then if you want your present, you have to let me out of bed for a minute.”

Killian looked a bit gob-smacked at that.  “I thought…” he trailed off at her grin.

“It’s Christmas, Killian.  And on Christmas I get to give you a gift.”

The smile was a little shaky, and Emma ran her fingers through his hair to soothe him.  Then she crawled over him, stumbled a bit on the cold floor, and dug into the pocket of her bag that held her underwear.

The box was small and carefully wrapped, a brilliant green bow taped to the top.  Emma had spent more time than she cared to imagine figuring out if the bow should be centered on the box or off to one side jauntily.

The way Killian was staring at the box now resting on his chest, Emma had made the right decision letting it hang off one side a little.

“Well?” she questioned.  “Go on.  Open it!”

The tip of Killian’s tongue poked out the side of his mouth as he slid his finger gently under the tape.  He teased at it until it let go, opening the paper slowly to reveal the battered velvet box beneath.

Emma snorted.  “I should have known you weren’t the ‘tear open the paper’ type.”

Killian graced her with half a smirk before his attention was solely on his gift once more.

Opening the box revealed the ancient looking spyglass that had screamed Killian’s name at her until she had gotten it in her hands.

“Oh, Emma,” he breathed, reverently pulling it from its box and turning it over and over.

“I don’t know why I got it, it’s not like it’s useful,” she hedged.  “But I thought you’d like it.”

“It’s perfect.”  He sounded a little choked up, and Emma snuck her hand up until she could play with the hair at the base of his neck.

“You’re going to be exploring time soon,” she explained more fully.  “It reminded me of pirates, sailing off across the world in search of their treasures.”

There were honest-to-God tears checked in the corners of Killian’s eyes

“But always coming back home to you, luv,” he whispered, still holding the spyglass reverently.

Now there were tears checked in the corners of Emma’s eyes, too.

Killian extended the spyglass and looked through it, and Emma could picture him behind the helm of a great sailing ship, searching across the horizon for ships to plunder and towns to pillage.

Then he was kissing her, and Emma forgot about everything other than the feel of him beneath her.

“Can I give you your present _now_?”  Killian asked a few hours later, his hair slicked back with sweat and a happy smile across his features.

Emma rolled back onto her side, resting her chin on his chest.  “Do I have to let you go for long so you can get it?”

He shook his head, ‘no’.

“Okay, then.  Gimme!”

Killian chuckled, then covered her eyes with his hands.  “I’m afraid I didn’t go to all the trouble you did of wrapping your gift, Swan, so you’ll have to keep your eyes closed a moment.”

Emma bit her lip, but let her eyes close under his palm.

“Keep them closed until I say.”

She nodded.

Emma expected him to get up from the bed, and lamented the loss before he even moved.  To her surprise, he never got up.  She heard the scraping of the bedside table’s drawer, and confusion stole her concentration for a moment.  She’d seen him drop his necklaces in there the night before, and nothing but the Gideon Bible had been in there.

The drawer closed and Emma tried to wait patiently until Killian allowed her to open her eyes.

She could feel him shifting up so that he was sitting, reaching around and tugging her up with him so that she was reclined against his chest.

“Okay,” Killian said after she had settled comfortably.  “Open.”

Emma’s eyes opened slowly, not sure of what she was going to find.

There was a ring swinging in front of her, hanging off one of Killian’s chains.  She’d rarely seen him without it around his neck.

“Whoa…” her entire body tensed.

“Calm down, Swan.  I’m not proposing.”

The breath she’d been holding rushed out of her with a disappointed woosh.  They weren’t ready for that - _she_ wasn’t ready for that.  Were they?

 _Was_ she?

“This ring, I’ve had it for many years.  It’s the reason I’m alive.  Or it could be, who knows?  It belonged to a better man than I - my brother Liam.  It was his lucky ring, the one that always got him home safe.  He gave it to me the morning we traveled to Ireland.  He said that was how sure he was that we were going to be just fine.  That he had a plan to get us away from our father, and it started with me going to that lecture.”

Killian squeezed her more tightly against his side, and Emma could feel the way he shivered at the memories.

Emma fingered the cool metal for a moment, turning it over in her hands the way Killian had with the spyglass.  

“At the very least,” he added, “it’s a reminder that you’ve got a piercing-eyed, smouldering pirate who loves you.  Will you wear it?”

She slipped the chain over her head, letting the ring fall so that it nestled comfortably between her breasts.  It felt right, like it belonged there.

Like she’d never been without it.

“I have all these grand things I want to say to you, Emma.  To show you and to prove to you how much you’ve changed me for the better.”  Killian cleared his throat, and Emma could already hear the movie quote forming in his brain.  “But for now, let me say - without hope or agenda, just because it’s Christmas and at Christmas you tell the truth - to me, you are perfect. And my wasted heart will love you. Until the end of time.”

Emma turned in his embrace so that she could tuck her head under Killian’s chin.  “I never really got the appeal of _Love Actually_ until now.”

Killian’s grin stretched all the way across his face.

“Thank you, Killian,” she whispered, playing with the ring again.  “I’ll keep it safe for you.”

He hummed, burying his nose in her hair.  “It’s to keep you safe, luv.  I can’t lose you, too.”

Emma didn’t know what to say to that.

They napped for awhile after that, waking only when Emma’s stomach loudly protested the lack of food in the hours since they’d first awoken.

It was the best Christmas Emma could remember having.

The first day of the new semester came too quickly for Emma’s liking, and with it came the guilt from hiding her project from Killian.  She met with her advisor to get the credentials she needed in order to dig into the case, and it all started to feel real.

She was going to find Liam Jones’s killer.  No matter what.

But no matter what the clenching in her heart was trying to tell her, it still wasn’t the right time to tell Killian.  Definitely not when she turned the corner in the Physics hallway and saw the shiny, new sign hanging outside the photon capture lab where she was supposed to meet Killian.

**_ DONATED COURTESY OF:  
ROBERT GOLD _ **

Emma stared at the sign for an inordinate amount of time.   _What?_  Or more accurately: _How?_  She knew how stubborn Killian was - he was almost as obstinate as _she_ was, and that was saying something.  If he didn’t want to work with Gold, then he wouldn’t have just changed his mind.

She opened the door hesitantly.

And got her first glimpse as to why, exactly, Killian had referred to Gold as a crocodile.  The older man was looming over Killian, smiling coldly as he waved his hand about.

“-’ll see, everything here is state of the art.  You’ll want for nothing while you work for me, I assure you.  The president of the University has assured me that all of your requisitions will be filled within the week and he has also ensured that I will be the first test trip back when you’ve succeeded.”

Killian just nodded sullenly.

“I believe the words you’re looking for, son, are ‘thank you’.  ‘Sir’ wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility, as well, dearie.”

“Thank you, _sir_ ,” Killian bit out, and Emma wanted nothing more than to shove the soldering iron - the one that hadn’t hurt Killian as much as this man was - through his heart.

No one made her bo… made Killian sound that defeated.  No one.

“Ah, you must be Miss Swan,” Gold said genially when he caught sight of her stalking towards him.

Killian’s head shot up, and Emma could easily read the mortification there.

She ignored it, ignored _him_ for the moment.  Emma moved until she was toe to toe with the old man, sneering as coldly at him as he had been at Killian.  “I do believe you’re keeping us from our work, _sir_ , and I’m sure you’re aware that every second could count.”

Gold looked startled for a moment, as if no one had ever stood up to him before.

“Of… of course, Miss Swan.  I’ll leave you two to it.  Wouldn’t want to get in the way.  But I’ll expect weekly progress reports.  And” - he peered around her to slice through Killian with a look - “if I don’t see adequate progress, I’ll see that this project is moved to a more supervised location.”

Killian must have acquiesced, but Emma didn’t look away from Gold until he backed up and limped out of the room.

She continued to glare at the door when it slammed behind him, making sure he wouldn’t come back.

“Killian?” she questioned softly.  “What happened?”

He just shook his head, and Emma could see the muscles of his jaw twitching violently.  She stepped closer, wedging her knee between his until he allowed her to step between his legs.  She pulled his head forward to rest against her stomach and let her fingers card through his hair.

He was trembling.

It took him a moment, but eventually the tension in his muscles released and Killian wrapped his arms around her hips, drawing Emma even closer.

The silence between them was charged, but Emma let it linger as she continued to scratch at Killian’s scalp.  He sniffled once, but didn’t break down and didn’t let her go for a long time.

“He went over Archie’s head,” he finally mumbled.  “Or he _and_ Archie went over my head.  I’m not entirely sure.  I just showed up and he was at the door, that bloody sign already hung and all the equipment replaced.”

Emma looked around and noticed how shiny and new everything looked.

“I guess we know why Archie wouldn’t let us in the lab over break,” he mused, more to himself than to her.

“Oh Killian, I’m so sorry.”  Emma’s heart broke when Killian just nodded and clutched her tighter to him.  It was as if he were afraid that she’d betray him, too, if he let her out of his sight.

“You haven’t accepted your graduate posting here, yet,” she mused aloud, not wanting to think about what would happen if he were to transfer.  “Could you-”

“No,” he interrupted.  “Apparently, my project is now the intellectual property of the University.  So if I leave, there’s not a program around that can allow me to continue my work.”

The last intact pieces of Emma’s heart shattered.  “So what are you going to do?”

“What _can_ I do?  It’s like he’s got his scaly little hand plunged into my chest and he’s squeezing my heart to dust.  But I can’t qu- I _won’t_ quit.  Not on this.  Not on… on my brother.”  Killian finally pulled back from her enough that he could look up into her eyes.

His own were bloodshot and suspiciously wet.

Hers, she knew, weren’t much better.

“What do I do?”

Emma squeezed her eyes shut against the onslaught of emotion he wrung out of each word.  She didn’t know what to tell him.  She didn’t know how to make this better.  And she wanted, she _needed,_ to make this better for him.

Somehow.

“What if…” she paused, the idea half-formed in her head.  “What if you go along with-”

Killian made some sort of aborted, strangled noise.

“Hear me out!  If you go along with it for now.  Then when you and David have a working machine, we don’t… you _don’t_ take Gold back first.  We’ll sneak in the night before and send you back to Liam.  If you save him, then you won’t _need_ to take Gold back to his wife, because…” she trailed off as it hit her.  “Because none of this would have happened.”

It was the first time she’d really thought about it.  If Killian went back in time and saved Liam, he wouldn’t need to make a time machine.  He wouldn’t need to come to Storybrooke.

He wouldn’t need her.

“No, Swan,” Killian corrected immediately, as if he had read her mind.  “I’m always going to need you.  In any time or place or situation, I’m going to find you and I’m going to love you.  But it’s more than that.  Even if I go back and save Liam, I’m still going to need to grow up to create this machine.  Otherwise I never would have gone back for him in the first place and he’d still wind up de” - he cut himself off.  “I’m always going to end up here.  With you.”

Emma didn’t know what to say.  She wasn’t good with words like Killian.  She just, she loved him.  So she showed him.

Killian’s eyes widened a little as she threaded her fingers through his hair.  She stepped closer, so they were pressed together and tugged at his hair until Killian growled and peered up at her.  There was a dark look in his eyes, and Emma knew he wasn’t focused solely on her.

Not yet.

Her grip tightened on his hair, tilting his head a little to the side.  Slowly, never breaking eye contact, Emma leaned down and slanted her mouth over his.  Before he could move, Emma nipped at his lower lip, soothing it a moment later with a sweet brush of her lips.  His eyes fluttered shut at the gentle touch, and Emma took the advantage, sliding into his lap and teasing his mouth open so she could taste the inside of his mouth.  Her senses were filled with him, the scent that was purely his, the feel of his hands running over her back, the sounds of their kiss.

The sight of him, wholly wrecked, when she pulled back to breathe.

“I love you,” he whispered, his forehead resting against her own.

Emma smiled.  “I love you, too.”

Killian nodded, the movement making her own head jaunt up and down.  “We’ll figure this out then.  Together?”

“Together.”

Emma stood a few moments later, stepping back out of Killian’s embrace and turning him in the chair until he faced the computer.

“All right, Jones.  What do we need to do next?”

Next, it turned out, was weeks and weeks of testing, of requisitioning materials, and of arguing with David over blueprints in the suite while Emma and Mary Margaret watched in amusement.  Ashley and Ruby would sit off to the side and take bets on which one of them would storm off first.  

Emma was usually the one rushing off to soothe ruffled feathers, Ruby cackling at whatever she’d won from Ashley.

But things began to run more smoothly once there were parts and pieces to tinker with.  David was content to construct the machine to the specifications they’d worked out, and Killian was able to craft the device that would allow him to manipulate time.  Emma spent countless hours holed up in the corner of the lab, watching them work and using Mary Margaret’s laptop to compile information for her project.  She would get distracted often by their antics, from mock swordfights with cold soldering irons to the scene she was witnessing now.

“Well according to this research” - Killian pointed towards the textbook between them - “combining these two metals will allow us to increase the durability without compromising the weight.”

“Okay.  It says turn counter-clockwise.”  David paused, and Emma saw how they exchanged confused glances.  “Do you think they mean the beaker or do we have to turn?”

Killian didn’t speak for a moment, before he shrugged and looked a little helpless.  “It’s better to be safe.”

“Yeah, right,”  David agreed reluctantly.  Emma suppressed a giggle.

Emma watched, both hands clapped over her mouth now, as David lifted the beaker from its perch.  Killian extended his hand as if he were holding the beaker, himself, and they both turned in a full circle - counterclockwise.

“All right?” David asked after they were done, still looking hesitantly at the molten metals.

“Yeah, that seems right.”  Killian nodded.  

Emma lost it.  She collapsed onto her side, Mary Margaret’s computer nearly toppling to the floor.

Killian and David both turned to glare at her.

“You…” she wheezed.  “You two look like you belong in Snape’s potions class or something.”

David scoffed, but Killian cocked an eyebrow at her before turning back to where David was now mixing the metals together.

“Careful, mate,” he cautioned with a smirk.  “If you turn us into raccoons, driving your truck will be a challenge.”

Emma saw how Killian looked hopefully at David for a reaction to his joke, but when it fell flat, his shoulders drooped.  She could tell how much he wanted David to genuinely like him.

“Good news, I think we got it,” David said instead.

Emma got up from her perch, coming over to wrap her arms around Killian’s waist and watch as they poured the new alloy into a mold.  The metal hissed and bubbled as it filled all the nooks and crannies, spreading out until there was just a thin layer of liquid coating the surface.

Killian’s hands came up to rest on Emma’s, his thumb smoothing over her hand as he watched.

“This is a bit like watching paint dry,” she mused after what felt like an eternity.

Killian chuckled.  “Aye, luv, I suppose it is.  What say we take a walk for a bit, come back when David has something to fiddle with?”

David waved them away.  “It won’t be malleable until tomorrow at the earliest, Jones, so take off,” he muttered, finally moving away from the lab bench to shrug into his coat.

“Let’s away, luv,” Killian murmured in her ear as he ushered her towards the door.  “I think we could both use an evening on the beach, don’t you?”

She probably should have told him about her project then.

But the sound of the waves and the smell of salt on the air and the feel of him wrapped around her as he kept her warm watching the sunset stole her courage and replaced it with bliss.

This.

This was what she wanted with their lives.

It seemed to Emma like the rest of their semester went by in the blink of an eye.  All of a sudden, Killian was busy with graduation week activities and Emma was struggling to focus on studying and making plans for the summer once again.

Emma was curled up on Killian’s lap, murmuring answers to the flashcards he was showing her.  “Are you staying on campus again this summer?” she asked distractedly, trying to remember the answer to the current card.

“Hmm?  Oh.  No, I’m not sure what to do yet.  They won’t let me stay now that I’m not going to be an undergrad anymore.”

That wasn’t like him.  Killian had plans about plans.  And contingencies for when those plans failed.

“Really?” she spun around to look at him.  There was a bit of a hesitant look in his eyes.

Killian shrugged.  “Well, I was thinking that maybe… if you wanted to… I mean…”

“Out with it, Jones,” she demanded.

His gaze skittered away from her and he spoke without breathing, “I thought maybe you might want to think about getting an apartment together.”

His cheeks and the tips of his ears flamed red before he was even done speaking.

“You… want to move in together?” Emma breathed.

Killian barely managed a nod.

Emma thought about it for a long moment, ignoring the way he was squirming underneath her as she fought through the need to run from how serious this was.

“Okay,” she finally decided.

This was worth it.

 _He_ was worth it.

“Yeah?” he sounded incredulous, so Emma reached up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Only if you promise to bring me Granny’s once a week.”

Killian grinned.  “I can do that, luv.”

In the end, they found an apartment for the four of them - she and Mary Margaret, Killian and David.

No one had any illusions that the roommate arrangements would stand as thus, but Mary Margaret’s father didn’t need to know that.

And so the semester came to a close, Killian’s graduation due to start in two hours and Emma struggling to keep her curls under control in the light wind that had picked up.

“Leave it, luv, you look beautiful.”  Killian came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

The black satin of his gown slid over her bare arms and Emma smiled at the feeling.

“You’re biased,” she murmured back, turning in his arms so she could kiss him.

Killian pulled back all too quickly for her liking.  “Aye, maybe.  But it doesn’t change that you’re brilliant.  Amazing.”

Emma just shook her head.  She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him again, but Killian’s eyes darkened and anger contorted his features.  “Killian?” she asked, squeezing his arms when he didn’t so much as look at her.

“What the bloody hell are _you_ doing here?” he hissed over her head, tugging her tightly against his chest as if he could protect her from whoever was there.

Emma wanted to turn around, wanted to protect Killian from whoever was making him shake with anger.

“You didn’t think I’d miss my wastrel of a son’s graduation, did you, boy?” a slurred voice asked sarcastically.

 


	10. To Keep and to Cast Away

 

**_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/166820621092/killians-jaw-clenched-as-he-deleted-the-messaget)!_**

* * *

* * *

“I’ll ask you again, in case the whiskey’s made you deaf as well as drunk.  What the bloody hell are you _doing_ here?”  Killian seethed, his arms tightening around Emma’s back, as if she could shield him from his father’s disappointment.

The only thing that kept him from beating a tactical, but hasty, retreat was the feel of her hands along his back, trying to calm him down.

“Well hello, there, lassie,” Brennan leered at Emma.  “I guess my son’s managed to get one thing right at least.  Bagged a hot one there, lad.  Might be some hope for you yet.”

Killian saw red.  He was going to obliterate his father if one more-

“Excuse me?”  Emma’s voice cut through the angry haze.  She was furious.

Brennan Jones laughed, a deep sound that was interrupted by a hiccup.  “Doesn’t concern you, miss.  Me and m’boy ‘re just havin’ a conversation.”

Her hands disappeared from his back and Killian felt the loss immediately.  Emma whipped around so she could get her first glimpse of the man responsible for his birth, and Killian settled his hands on her hips - to keep her away from his father or to keep himself from stepping in front of her to defend her, Killian wasn’t sure.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, buddy, but I’m not going to be spoken about that way.  I’m not some trophy to be won and Killian knows that.  He sure as hell deserves better than you, but if you’re going to come to _congratulate_ him on the hard work he’s put in the past four years, then you can do it by shutting the hell up and going to find your seat.”  She paused to take in a breath, and Killian heard the shudder that she tried to hide.  “Only family is allowed back here before the graduates all march in, so I’m pretty sure you’re trespassing.”

“Maybe you don’t know who I am, you little-”

“-Oh I know _exactly_ who you are, you son of a-”

“Okay!”  Killian cut in.  “You” - he pointed to his father - “need to go sober up or sit down.  And I’ll see you later.”

His father gaped at him, but when one of the professors finally started to make his way over, Brennan stalked off.

“And you,” he spoke more softly, his hand coming up to brush a tendril of hair away from her cheek, “are brilliant.  You’re amazing and I love you.”

Emma’s eyes still flashed with anger, but the softness was returning to her features.  “He was talking about me like I was nothing.”

“You’re not-”

“I’m _not_ nothing.  I was _never_ nothing!”  Emma hissed, looking over her shoulder to where his father had disappeared, and Killian knew she wasn’t really hearing him.  Knew she was battling some of the demons he’d tried to vanquish for her.

“No, luv, you’re everything.  Come back to me, aye?”

She shuddered again, and then curled into his chest, wrapping her arms around him and hugging - hard.

“Mr. Jones?” the professor spoke up when he reached their sides.  “Your girlfriend needs to take her seat now, please.”

“Aye, sir,” he agreed, leaning down to kiss Emma’s forehead.  “Are you going to be okay, luv?”

“As long as I don’t have to sit with him, I’ll be fine.”  She pulled back and mussed up his hair a bit.  “Don’t trip today, okay?”

Killian laughed.  “No promises.”

He ignored the professor’s glare as he took Emma’s hand and led her down to where their friends were waiting.  “Here, luv, they’ll keep you from punching Brennan today, aye?”

“No promises,” she parroted back at him.

Ruby piped up from the back of the group. “Do I need to hide a body in Granny’s freezer?”

The well-timed quip broke the tension and Killian kissed Emma’s temple before leaving her in the middle of their little group.  He trusted that Brennan wouldn’t go anywhere near Emma with David watching over the girls like an overprotective papa.

“Don’t spend too much time texting me, Jones,” Emma called as she was dragged away.  “Try to pay attention, okay?”

Killian rolled his eyes.

He lasted all of ten minutes into the first of many speeches when his pocket buzzed.

_I’m bored. Are you paying attention?_

Killian laughed heartily, earning him a glare from the row in front of him.

**Not really luv but you told me I should**

He imagined the light laughter that he would conjure from her with that remark, as well as the disapproving glares from their-

_You’re getting me in trouble with MM!_

**Sorry MM!**

They texted back and forth through the rest of the speeches, only pausing when Killian’s row was finally called to line up and march across the stage.  He waited impatiently as the people in front of him were called up.  And then it was his turn.

“Killian Jones, Theoretical and Quantum Physics.”

He tried to concentrate on his feet.  He really did.  But then he heard David’s sharp whistle and Ruby’s catcall, and he stumbled.  Two steps up at a sprint, a little bit of flailing, and while he managed not to fall, he could still feel the tips of his ears start to burn.

The phone in his pocket buzzed, and Killian resisted the urge to glare across the crowd to where he knew Emma was sitting.  Instead, he accepted the staged diploma from Archie, holding it up with a bit of flourish when his friends started hollering again.

One step down.  One more degree to go.

He didn’t really care about the pieces of paper, just that they afforded him the time and the resources to finish his machine.

Thoughts of Gold filtered through and Killian felt his heart constrict at the way the man was playing him.  It didn’t matter, though, not when there was nothing he could do about it.  So he put the phantom pain out of his mind and concentrated on stepping _off_ the stage without a repeat performance of his trip up.

He waited until he was safely back in his seat to check on what Emma had sent him.

It wasn’t from Emma.

Not surprised you embarrassed me again

Killian’s jaw clenched as he deleted the message and then blocked the number.  He wanted nothing more than to get out of his seat and track his father down, then haul him bodily out of his seat and frog march him to the proverbial door.

Instead, he thumbed over to his gallery app and brought up the pictures of Emma he’d saved.

His phone vibrated a moment later, with a picture message from Emma.  He swiped it open and grinned - four faces beamed at him with the message “Congratulations on your _trip_ , graduate!”

That was more like it.

Killian settled in for the rest of the commencement ceremony, flipping his tassel when prompted, but otherwise falling back on the equation that promised him a future with his brother in it rather than the lack of family he had now.

 _That’s not true any more_ , his brain interjected.   _You have Emma now, too_.

He did.

He’d heard what she said to his father, but knew that calling attention to it would frighten her.  Knowing that she saw them as family almost made it worth his father’s inopportune appearance.

Almost.

And then he was unzipping his gown, concentrating on not snagging his tie in the zipper, when Emma called out.  He had half a second to look up before she was in his arms, giggling in his ear and pulling the cap off his head.  She set it on her own, letting the mortarboard sit at an angle.

Killian thought she looked kissably cute, but David was smacking him on the back before he could indulge the thought.

“Congratulations, Jones.  Don’t run off until we finish _my_ build though, okay?” David joked.

Killian smirked, shaking his head and resisting the urge to roll his eyes.  He really should tell David his plans for the machine, but not yet.

Not yet.

“He hasn’t dragged you into his asinine belief that he can bring my oldest son back from the dead, has he?” Brennan’s voice wafted over Killian and his heart plummeted into his stomach.  So much for hoping the man would slink off to the closest tavern without trying to wreck his day.

“What?” David asked, looking confused as his eyes darted back and forth between the Joneses.

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose and tightened his grip on Emma before she could haul off and slug his father.  He heard her squawk of protest, but simply pulled her closer to his side.

“This is _not_ the time, Brennan,” he hissed.  “You’re drunk.”

Brennan laughed heartily.  “Had to be.  Not every day your only family forgets to invite you to their graduation.”

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that your only family died six years ago in Ireland.  How did you even get here?” he asked, knowing his father wouldn’t have wasted the money on a plane ticket.

“I took the opportunity to ensure your father had adequate transportation and lodgings, Mr. Jones.”

Killian thought he’d been able to smell Gold’s involvement in this.  The slimy reptile was grinning as if he knew _exactly_ what this meant to Killian.

How to wreck his day.

Killian smiled coldly, the pull of muscles and skin feeling forced.  “Thank you, sir,” he bit out, not wanting to get into another fight with his smug benefactor.

They’d had more than one discussion about respect that had ended with Killian slinking away to lick his wounds in private.

Emma tucked her head under his chin, her fingers tangling in the fabric against his back.

“Glad to help, son,” Gold smiled back just as calculatingly as Killian had ever seen.  The crocodile knew _exactly_ what he’d done.

“Killian?” David was still looking for an explanation.

He couldn’t look at his friend.  He couldn’t explain, not in front of Gold and his father and the girls.  Not with Archie making his way over.

Not now.

This wasn’t the right-

Emma must have glared at David, because his friend just stuck out his hand to shake Killian’s instead of forcing him to speak.

“We’ll talk later, right?” David asked.

Killian just nodded.  “We’ll see you at Granny’s in a bit, aye?” he managed.

Ruby smiled gently at him and herded the rest of their group away with a pointed look back at Emma.

He knew _they_ were going to have a conversation later.

“Time for you to go home, don’t you think, Brennan?” Emma snarled at his father.

His father laughed.  “I’ll go home when I’m good and ready, lass.”

“What do you want?” Killian asked, defeated.  He just wanted to get his father out of there and go curl up around Emma for the rest of the afternoon.

“To know what your plans are now that you’re finished with this nonsense.  I can’t hold that union job for you forever, you know.”

Killian looked at him, baffled.  “You really think I’m _ever_ going to come crawling back to you?  I’d rather end up on the streets here.”

Brennan looked a bit lost at that.

Killian just shook his head.  “I’m going to succeed here, and I’m going to go on like you’re the one I lost instead of Liam.  And I’m going to do it with Emma at my side.  So you may as well just go home, _father_.  I’m done with you.”

Emma tugged him away, and Killian turned his back on Brennan.  He had better things to-

“Don’t you want to meet your brother Liam?”

Killian’s head snapped around.  “What?” he asked, hurt tearing at him.  Liam was gone.  He was only coming back when Killian went back to save him.

Brennan held up a cell phone, the picture on it of he and another woman holding up a toddler.  “He’s only just turned three.  We called him Liam.”

Killian started to shake.  His vision was filled with red and if Emma hadn’t kept a grip on him, he likely would have done something unforgivable.

He wasn’t sure how it happened, but they were curled up in the papasan chair in their apartment, Emma sitting in his lap and running her hands through his hair.

“- gone, Killian.  He’s gone and he’s not going to hurt you again.”

 _Hurt?_  When did his father… how did she… Killian focused inwards for a moment, shutting out Emma’s soothing tone and trying to figure out if his father had managed to land a blow.

Nothing hurt but the way his heart clenched when he remembered the smiling little boy in the picture, and Killian finally understood what Emma meant.

“I’m here, Swan,” he whispered.  “I’m okay, now.”

She smiled, the back of her hand brushing gently at his cheek.  “No, you’re not.  But we’ll get there.”

He shuddered.

“He’s gone?” he asked hesitantly, not sure he could deal with his father again.

Emma nodded.  “I might have threatened his manhood if he showed up around you again,” she muttered sheepishly.

He smiled, and was relieved to feel how genuine it seemed.  “Of course you did.  I love you.”

She snuggled under his chin, dragging his arms around her so she could cuddle against his chest.  “I love you, too.”

Killian was content to sit there for the rest of their lives, basking in the sheer simplicity of being together.

“If you want” - she interrupted his daydreams of introducing her to Liam someday - “everyone’s still going to meet up at Granny’s for a late dinner instead.  I told them I wasn’t sure we’d make it, though.”

 _Dinner?  Late?  How long had he been out of it?_  “Wh… What time is it?”

“Almost seven.”  He could hear the lingering worry in her words.

Graduation was supposed to be over by two.

“Bloody buggering… I’ve been worrying you that long?” his heart was clenching tightly again.

Emma kissed the skin that his half-open shirt exposed.  “You needed to chill, I didn’t mind.”

“Emma…” he trailed off.   _God,_ he thought, _I don’t deserve her._

She began to play idly with the hair at the nape of his neck.  “Whatever you need tonight, Killian.  It’s yours.  If you need to be alone, or with our friends… if you need to work or just go to bed.  I didn’t understand before.  Not about this.  Not about how he… how you… I didn’t understand why you couldn’t work with Gold when he’s trying to put his family back together.  But I get it now” - she shook her head - “I don’t want you giving him back a family if you think he’s anything like your father.”

“I think he’s worse,” he whispered hoarsely.

She nodded.  “I agree.  And I’m sorry.  For doubting you.”  Emma hugged him tightly, burying her nose in his neck.  

There were hot tears soaking into his skin, and he hugged her back as his own began to fall.

They did eventually make it to his celebratory dinner at Granny’s, the woman herself coming out from behind the counter to deliver a cake that she’d made from scratch.  Emma’s pleased smile let him know that she’d played a part in the decorations and the rich chocolate dessert that filled his belly.

Not once did his father come up in conversation, and Killian was glad of it.

But he knew he’d have to talk to David eventually.

Just… maybe not tonight.

He should have known it was too good to last.

“You need your hussy to come protect you now, boy?  Or are you man enough to speak to your father?”

Brennan had come out of nowhere when Killian had ducked away from Emma to use the restroom.

He whipped around, slightly chagrined to realize that his first instinct _was_ to look for Emma.

But it wasn’t what Brennan thought - it wasn’t about hiding behind her, or letting her fight his battles.

It was how they were stronger together.

Emma was out of sight, he could just hear her laughter mingled in with the evening crowd in the diner.  The sound of her happiness made him smile - and _that_ made his father sneer.

“Putting all your nuts in one basket with that one, aren’t you?  She’s certainly got you by the balls.”

Killian’s jaw clenched painfully as he surged forward and grabbed his father by the shirt.   Ignoring Brennan’s sputtering, and the grasping fingers trying to dislodge his grip, Killian managed to back his father further down the hall until he was out of earshot.

“I’ll thank you not to speak about her that way again.  I won’t tell you twice,” he hissed at his father, his free hand balling tightly at his side.

“Oh ho!” his father laughed.  “Looks like ickle Killy finally grew a set.  Tell me, boy, what are you gonna do now?”

Killian shoved him back against the wall - hard.  “Get out of here.  Go back home and try not to wreck my little brother’s life.”

“You know, we named him Liam because you cost me the only son that was worth anything to me,” Brennan sneered, holding the back of his head where it had connected with the wall.

“You named him Liam because you were too drunk to come up with something original, I’d wager,” he hissed back, one ear still on the main dining room.  He ignored the sharp stab of pain that tore outwards from his chest - in the place where the lost little boy who only wanted his family back together huddled.

“You no good, rotten son of a bitch,” Brennan strode forward and grabbed Killian by the shirt.  “I’m still your father.  You’ll treat me with respect.”

Killian shoved him backwards again, watching with satisfaction when the man stumbled.  “I don’t care if you’re the bloody head of the Church.  You’ve never earned my respect and it costs a lot more than you’re worth to get it.  Now leave.”

But Brennan just started to laugh.  “At least I’m not the one who got your sainted brother killed.  You want to talk about worthless, boy, just think about how it should be you in the ground and not him.”

“Killian?”  Emma’s voice floated down the hallway, and Brennan paled considerably.

Killian smirked, though all he wanted to do was deflate.  “You’d better go running home with your tail between your legs before that woman finds you and emasculates you.”

“This isn’t over, boy.”  Brennan pointed threateningly at him before slinking down the hall.

Killian waited until he was out of sight before he slumped against the wall.

“Killian?  Are you down here?” Emma called again.

He shuddered.  “Down here, luv,” Killian answered back - a tremor in his voice he couldn’t quite hide.

Her hurried footsteps echoed in the small space.  “What’s wrong?” she asked worriedly before she’d even gotten around the corner.

He couldn’t muster up the energy to answer.

“Hey,” she whispered softly when she was finally standing in front of him  “What happened?”

Killian just grabbed her and hugged her tightly to his chest.

This.  This was real.  This was good.   _This_ was what he was worth.

“Killian?”

He barely managed to breathe out, “My father was here,” unable to process it himself.

“You want to go home?” she asked into his chest, her arms wrapping around his back and squeezing just as tightly.

“No,” he croaked.  “No, I want to stay.  I just need a minute.”

She nodded.  “Whatever you need.”

Killian clenched his eyes shut and buried his face in her hair.  The familiar scent enveloped his senses and slowed his frantic pulse.

This.

This was what was important.

Emma and him.

Together.

Killian heard someone murmuring, thought he made out his name, but definitely heard, “We’ll still be here.”

He had friends, too.

Friends who he owed an explanation to.

When Killian finally pulled back from Emma, she was looking up at him worriedly.  “Are you all right?”

He huffed out a laugh.  “I will be.  But I think we need to tell them.”

“About Liam?”

Killian nodded, a bit reluctantly.  “They deserve to know what they’re getting into.  What we’re trying to accomplish.”

“And if David isn’t willing to help?” she asked, but he could hear from her tone of voice that she didn’t believe their friend would back out any more than he did.

He shook his head, finally pushing away from the wall to stand on his own two feet - figuratively and literally.  “Then I’m sure our resident crocodile will find a suitable replacement.  Whether I like it or not.”

Emma tangled their fingers together, leading him back to their friends and the chocolate cake that was mostly demolished.

Killian thought another piece wouldn’t go amiss after the last few minutes.

“Well, then we’ll just have to convince him to help, won’t we?”  Emma smiled.  “But maybe we can wait until we're back at our apartment for _that_ conversation?”

Killian agreed, a little flutter in his stomach when Emma called it _their_ place.

Granny boxed up the rest of the cake for him, and after a whispered discussion with Emma, ushered them out the door.

“Congratulations, Jones.  You’ve earned every step of the way,” the old woman whispered in his ear as she hugged him briefly.  “Now, take care of our girl, won’t you?”

Like she even had to ask.

At home, Emma mixed drinks and made sure everyone was comfortable in their mismatched, thrift shop furniture.  They split up the rest of the cake and Killian worked on gathering his nerve.

“Jones?” David finally broke the comfortable atmosphere.  “What’s going on?”

Killian sighed.  Now or never.

Though never sounded like the better option, still.

Until Emma sat down next to him and squeezed his hand.  He nodded at David and took a deep breath.

“You all heard my father this morning,” he began hesitantly, looking around for nods of confirmation.  “Drunk and crazy as he sounded, he was… more or less right.”

A couple of wide eyes, but no one seemed to be running for the hills just yet.

“I had an older brother.  Liam.  He was… everything to me.  He basically raised me since my father was… _is_ … well, you saw him.  That’s not a new development.”  Killian looked away from the sympathetic looks, staring out the window until he could continue.

Emma’s fingers were tangled in his own and her thumb was making soothing circles over the back of his hand.

“When I was thirteen, Liam took me to Ireland for a lecture on quantum physics.  I don’t even remember why it was so important, now.  But we were on our way to the lecture when he was…” he broke off.

“Killed,” Emma whispered for him.  “Shot.”

Killian shrugged and pulled off his glasses, cleaning them furiously with the hem of his shirt to expend some of the nervous energy.  “I can fix it.  I _know_ I can fix it if I can just make this work.  I can save him.”

“So… you’re not Dr. Frankenstein?” Ruby cut in.

He shook his head.

“I think that’s _your_ boyfriend, Ruby,” Emma snarked back.

Ruby agreed with her.

“So, we’re still building the machine?” David asked.

Killian nodded.

“And I still get to put my name on it when they award you the Nobel Prize?”

Killian’s eyes shot over to his friend.

“What?” David asked.  “You think I didn’t know you were going to go back in time and do _something_?”

Killian shrugged.  “I didn’t really want to think about what you thought,” he admitted.

“Killian,” Mary Margaret spoke up.  “We’re here to help.  Whatever you need to get your family back.  That’s what friends do.”

He smiled for the first time since he’d heard his father that morning.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” _There_ was the hurt that Killian had expected from David.

He looked over at Emma, taking solace in her soft smile.  “I… A lot of reasons.  I was afraid you wouldn’t help… at first.  And then I didn’t know how to tell you.  I can barely admit to myself, most days, that my brother is de… isn’t here.  Telling someone else is...” he trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

“Oh, Killian,” Mary Margaret fretted.

He breathed out a heavy sigh, not quite relieved at telling them, but certainly lighter.  The mood lifted after that, Ruby eventually passing out on the couch and David and Mary Margaret wandering to their room.

Emma covered Ruby with a few blankets as he gathered up the dishes they’d left behind.  It was so simple and domestic.

He could get used to this.

He could _certainly_ get used to them sharing a bed every night, he thought as they turned down the covers.  The tips of his ears flamed red at the thought, but he wouldn’t trade his embarrassment for the feel of her, soft and pliant, in his arms as she dropped off to sleep.

His own sleep, surprisingly, snuck up on him more quickly than he’d imagined it would.

Liam’s funeral was small.  Only a few friends of both the boys and some of the men Brennan worked with.

To Killian, it was a smack in the face, seeing how few people there were to remember his brother.  It wasn’t like there was any other family to support them, no one for Killian to turn to now that Liam was… was…

He shook his head violently, earning a sharp nudge from his father for the movement.

Brennan smelled, unsurprisingly, like a tavern.

The casket that held his brother’s body seemed too small.  Liam had always been larger than life, and to know that he was contained in such a tiny space just seemed off.  Killian’s numbers swirled around him, calculating his brother’s likely height and weight with regards to the dimensions of the box.

He’d only have oxygen in there for a few more…

Liam didn’t need any damn oxygen.  Not now.  Not ever.

Not until Killian could make his equation float in the right order so that he could go back and erase these last few days from existence.

But to do that, he needed to convince the man swaying at his side to let him go.

Preferably before he wasted the next five years of his life stuck in some kind of limbo where his father had all the power.

 _Stand up to him, little brother,_ Liam’s voice echoed in his head.   _You can do it.  Come save me._

But Killian didn’t know _how_.

The start of term for both Emma and Killian was hectic at best.  He’d picked up some teaching requirements as part of his graduate fellowship.  Introduction to Physics 101 had seemed like a great class when he’d taken it, all fresh-faced and ready to start his college career - but teaching it at 8AM three times a week to twenty-something freshmen who had better ideas for how to spend their time was less than satisfactory.

At least he came home to Emma every night.

Speaking of, Killian thought as he trudged through the door to their apartment that evening, the woman in question was currently sprawled out across the futon, books and papers spread over the entire mattress and a highlighter perched over one of the pages in whichever book she was studying from.

She was fast asleep.

Killian sat down carefully by her hip, sliding the marker from her grasp and capping it.  He could still remember those diabolical few weeks after he’d let her sleep during finals week and they’d argued, a tiny knot of pain solidifying in his chest at the memory.

He had no desire to repeat that ever again.

“Swan?” he whispered, his hand lightly shaking her shoulder.

She grumbled at him, but didn’t wake.

He tried again.  “My luv?  Come on, let’s away to bed.”

Emma cracked one eye open and tilted her head until she could see him.  “Bed?”

Killian huffed out a laugh.  “Aye, it’s late, and we have classes in all too few hours.”

“When’d you get home?”

He tugged at her shoulder until she sat up.  “Just a few minutes ago.  Our bed is more comfortable than this bloody contraption, come on.”

Emma mumbled something, already half-asleep again, and burrowed into his embrace.  “Sleepy.”

“I know, luv,” he laughed.  “That’s why I’m trying to get you to bed.”

“M’kay,” she agreed.

And didn’t move.

“Emma,” he groaned.

She sighed heavily in his ear, but then suddenly pushed herself out of his embrace and stood, a little wobbly, and tugged at his hand.  “We’ve come a long way since I shoved you up the ladder to my bed, Jones,” she mumbled as she led him down the hall.

“And I wouldn’t trade a moment of it,” he replied, a little grin tugging at his features.

And so the semester flew by, the time machine in Gold’s lab slowly taking shape and beginning to function.  With each new part carefully crafted and molded into the chassis, Killian’s trepidation grew.  How was he supposed to countenance taking Gold back in time to potentially obliterate the lives of his family?

What would Liam say about that?

To avoid thinking about it, Killian buried himself in classwork, in requisitioning more palladium and braeon and cesium for David’s build, in loving Emma.  Her birthday, Thanksgiving with their friends at David’s family home, Christmas and New Years’ spent in Boston, their hard-earned money giving them a week’s vacation from everything but each other.

He was almost able to forget what lie ahead before he could save Liam.

The day Killian found David standing outside the lab, bouncing from foot to foot like a kid on Christmas, it all came jumbling back in his head, throwing him for a loop.

“David?” he asked, hesitantly.

His friend was positively beaming.  “It’s about time, Jones!  Come on!”

Killian didn’t have a moment to process before David grabbed his hand and dragged him into the lab.

The machine was draped in a tarp, Mary Margaret and Emma holding ropes and standing on each side.  When they saw him, they yanked on the ties and he watched, transfixed, as the blue material floated down.

It was finished.

Gleaming metal and polished chrome, the machine looked almost like he imagined a steampunk representation of Saturn would.  The moving parts and pieces that would fuel the equation were carefully concealed in a ring around the main chassis, the hatch standing open and inviting.

Killian hadn’t been so terrified since the day the EMTs had torn him away from Liam’s side.

“There’s just one last bolt that needs to be secured,” David was saying.  “We thought that, with all this means to you, you should be the one to finish it.”

Killian just stared.

“It’s… done?” he managed to croak.

Emma stepped forward and wrapped his slack fingers around the welder.  “Come on, Jones, let’s finish this beast.”

The breath he’d been holding flew out of his lungs at an alarming speed, leaving him a little shaky.  He followed her lead, pulling the shield she’d given him down over his glasses and face and finally, _finally_ , welded the last piece of hardware to the machine.

It was done.

Carefully, reverently, Killian stepped inside the machine and sat at the controls.  This was it.  The moment he’d spent his entire life waiting for.

A shiny placard caught his eye, and his stomach plummeted to his knees.

**PROPERTY OF ROBERT GOLD**

Killian wanted to retch.  Or take a hammer to the entire thing.

Then Emma caught sight of the tag and a moment - and a phillips’ head screwdriver - later, and the painful reminder of what this was costing him was gone.

“He’s across town at a board meeting,” she whispered in his ear.  He didn’t have to ask who Emma meant.  “Do you think you can get this thing up and running before he comes in for the daily report?”

Killian’s eyes connected with hers and his hope soared.   _Could he really?_

Without a second glance, Killian booted up the computer and started inputting the data.  He entered time coordinates that he had slaved over for weeks, latitude and longitude to spit him out somewhere close enough to Liam but far enough from _people_ , the equation that would capture and manipulate time.

“You aren’t going anywhere without me, are you, dearie?” Gold’s oily voice echoed through the chamber.

 


	11. To Rend and to Sew

**_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/167055554807/it-was-real-it-was-done-emma-didnt-know-what)!_**

* * *

* * *

Emma’s chin dropped to her chest in defeat and she automatically reached out to Killian, her fingers grasping his shoulder.  In support or in warning, she wasn’t sure, but she _was_ sure that he needed to know that she stood with him.

Whatever Killian did next.

She didn’t have long to wonder; the way Killian’s shoulders slumped in defeat at Gold’s voice told Emma exactly which way his temper was going to fall.

Inwards.

“No, sir,” he mumbled, powering down the laptop.  “Just running some tests on the viability of the equation.  As you can see, we’re ready to go as soon as I can calculate the coordinates of your trip.”

“Good, good, never doubted your resolve for a second,” Gold snarled genially - as if that was a tone of voice that made any sense whatsoever - and smirked at Killian.  “I believe you’ll find my own mathematicians have provided us with proper coordinates.  You may, of course, double check them.  I’d like to schedule our test for tomorrow at 10AM.”

Emma’s hope soared for a moment.

“I will, of course, provide the proper security detail for the evening.  Wouldn’t want any of your colleagues to sabotage your work, now would we?”

Emma’s hope deflated like a popped balloon.

“Of course not,” Killian didn’t sound like he was agreeing with the man.  Spinning the chair around, he climbed out of the cockpit and accepted the flash drive from Gold’s outstretched hand.  “I’ll just double check these tonight.”

“You do that.  Meet me here tomorrow morning, _captain_ ; we have work to do.”

Emma watched Gold stride out of the room with all the confidence of a man who knows how utterly he’s won.  There were two huge, intimidating men flanking the door, glaring at the four students.  There were suspicious bulges at their hips and Emma wondered how they’d gotten approval for that.  But then she remembered - this was Gold.  As soon as the door closed behind Gold, Killian slumped into a chair.  His head dropped into his hands and David dutifully looked away, busying himself with the tools spread across the lab bench.

Mary Margaret folded up the tarp as quietly as she could, a gentle smile in Emma’s direction.

Neither of them was leaving Killian nor her, and that settled something in Emma that she had never even noticed was broken.

“I’m sorry, Killian,” she whispered.  “I thought that he’d be gone or we would have found a way to get you here earlier.”

He shook his head, still cradled in his hands, and Emma saw his fingers tighten in his hair.  “It’s not your fault, luv,” - he pulled hard at the locks - “I should have found a way to rid myself of that demon long before this.”

“What do you want to do?”  Emma’s fingers tangled with Killian’s, gently prying them loose from his hair and wrapping them in hers instead.

Killian just shrugged.  “What can we do?  Double check that the numbers aren’t going to drop us in the middle of the harbor or the Empire State Building and hope that he doesn’t do too much damage.”

“You don’t have-”

“-of _course_ I do!”  Killian interrupted so loudly that David and Mary Margaret both jumped.  “He bloody well _owns_ my soul until he gets this damned trip out of the way!  He may as well have torn my heart out of my chest, using my work to force his wife back into a marriage she clearly wanted no part of.  I… I don’t know, Swan.  I’ll survive it, somehow.”

Emma hugged him close, scratching her fingers through his hair the way he liked.  It had never failed to soothe him before.

It worked again.

Killian seemed to finally melt into her embrace, but he was silent for long enough that Emma started to worry about what he was thinking.

“Let’s just go home, luv.  Make me forget about this for tonight.”

 _That_ she could do.

Emma watched, sadly, as Killian paced around their apartment the next morning.  He alternated between pulling at his hair and huffing angrily.  “You know, Jones, a girl might get offended in a situation like this.”

Killian startled, looking over to where Emma was lounging in their bed, the sheet - and only the sheet - just barely covering her.  “Swan, I…” he stuttered out as he stared.

“I'm just teasing, Killian,” she let him off the hook.  “We're going to be late if we don't get going.”

“The bloody wanker can wait,” he growled, stalking over to her.  Emma was sure that his mind was completely distracted from the importance and the dreadful implications of the trip he was about to make.  And then her mind was consumed by _him_ and whatever time they were supposed to be wherever escaped her.

Gold's disapproving glare when they finally showed up made it more than worth the delay.

Killian pulled her tightly into his side and held her close, and all of a sudden it was real.  He was doing something today - reasons be damned - that no one had ever done before.  There were so many things that could go _wrong_ , so many ways that she could lose him in the blink of an eye.  

Would she even know it?  

Would she be able to tell if something had backfired, or would he just wink out of existence like he was going back in time and never be seen nor heard from again?

What would happen to Liam if he didn't come back?

All of a sudden, she was clinging to him tightly, stricken by what this all meant.  Emma wanted _nothing_ more than to whisk him away from all this, squirrel him out of the lab, out of Maine, hell, out of the country - anywhere that he couldn't climb into his machine and risk his life without her.

“Swan?” he asked quietly, holding her closer when all she could do was shake her head.

She couldn't worry him, now.  Not when he was about to make history.  Not when he needed every thought to be concentrating on making the calculations and the machine work perfectly.

Anything less and she'd never forgive herself.

“I'm just thinking about how much I'm going to miss you,” she whispered, conjuring up a shaky smile to put him at ease.

It didn't really work.

“I'll only be gone an hour or so, luv, just long enough to make sure that the temporal shift doesn't skew to one side and bring me back before I've left.   _That_ would be a disaster.”  He smiled wryly,  “Though I'm sure that _two_ devils as handsome as me wouldn't go amiss in your world, hmm?”

Emma rolled her eyes.  “In your dreams, buddy.”

“No, Swan,” he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “in _yours_.”

She couldn't help the chortling laughter that bubbled out of her.  “You're ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it.”  He smirked at Gold who was glaring outright at them.  “But in all seriousness, Emma, I'm going to be back in a jiffy.  Don't worry about me.”

Emma nodded, smiling less shakily this time, and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.  She brushed her lips over his chastely, mindful of all the eyes in the room.  “Come back to me, pirate,” she whispered.

“Always, luv.”

She breathed out her insecurities, her fears, as best she could.  “Good.”

Killian nodded and stepped out of her embrace.  Emma felt the loss immediately, a chill coursing down her spine that _something_ was going to go wrong.    She shivered involuntarily, stepping up to the desktop computer and initializing the recording devices around the room.  

Killian stepped up to the webcam and introduced himself and the project he'd been working on for so many years.  Emma was only half paying attention, trying to concentrate on the program that would track Killian's keystrokes and progress for posterity.  This was so important to him - and now, to her as well - that she wanted everything to run smoothly.  His accented voice washed over her as he continued to move around the lab and explain his process, calm and collected as he introduced David to the camera.

“We're ready to go, luv,” he came up behind her, toggling the pause button on the recording.  “Are you all right?”

She nodded, turning to wrap him up in the biggest bear hug she could manage.  “I will be.”

“Okay, then” - he turned to Gold - “get in and buckle up.  Try to stay out of the way.”

With a smile back at her, Killian flipped on the cameras again then climbed into the machine.

Emma was petrified that this was the last look she'd get of him, and she had to stop herself from scrambling into the cockpit after him.

Then the hatch closed on the two travelers and Emma listened to the machine beginning to whirl to life.  The noise was deafening, and the papers in the lab fluttered around in the wind that the moving parts kicked up.

A moment - and a blast of air that nearly knocked her off her feet - later, and it was all over.

The lab felt cavernous, the large gaping area where Killian's machine had been looming empty.

It was real.  It was done.  Emma didn't know what to do next.

Robotically, she flipped off the cameras and turned to where David was standing, a bit slack-jawed, himself.

She collapsed in his arms, shaking and terrified.

* * *

Killian's mouth opened and shut repeatedly, unable to take in any oxygen as he gasped like a fish on land.  It felt like someone had punched him in the stomach and then rearranged his insides with a grade school education in anatomy.  His eyes were watering and his knuckles were white with the force of his grip on the seat.  It took an interminable amount of time before his lungs remembered they were supposed to work, but when they finally responded to his panicked pleas, his eyes were watering and his ears were ringing.

Gold didn't sound much better, hunched forward against the harness straps that had secured him in the seat behind Killian.

"Bloody hell," Killian finally murmured, his words echoing throughout the tiny cockpit.

Gold leaned backwards in his seat, his face red with the exertion of breathing.  "For once, Mr. Jones, I concur."

Killian sneered.

"The equation is green," he mumbled to himself.  "When we open that hatch, we'll know if it worked or not."

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to rectify the momentous nature of what had just happened with the abject terror that filled him knowing that he'd brought Gold back to exactly the time he needed to do whatever nefarious deed he planned on.

Killian prayed to whoever was listening that he had misjudged the man.  That he wasn't in the process of making the biggest mistake of his life.

A few moments more to make the world stop revolving wildly around him, and Killian managed to turn the large wheel lock to unseal the hatch.  He opened up the heavy door and looked out hesitantly.

Green shrubbery and tall trees filled his line of vision.

He'd done it!

Killian didn't know how to react, didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do next.

The computer powered down, entering sleep mode in order to charge for the return trip.  He reached over to grab the braeon key that catalyzed the reaction, but his fingers grasped empty air.

"Oh no, dearie," Gold snarled as he tucked the key into his jacket pocket.  "There's no way I'm going to let you hold onto this and leave me behind."

Killian felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs again.  That was the only way home.

"I may need your help, still.  So I'll just hold onto this, shall I?"  The reptilian man cackled.  "You wouldn't want to risk getting home to your dear Miss Swan, now would you?  Leave her all alone in this big, bad world?"

Killian was already shaking his head when Gold twisted the knife just a little bit more.  "I could always tell myself to make her life miserable in a few years.  Who knows what kind of havoc I could cause."

He couldn't breathe again.  He just nodded dumbly, following Gold out of the machine and double checking the surrounding area to make sure no one would stumble across their landing site.

"I'll do whatever it takes," he said, completely defeated.

Gold laughed again.  "I do so love it when they say that.  Let's go."

Killian followed him out of the woods to a lost-looking little beach house.  The sound of the waves crashing against the shore assaulted his ears, for once not bringing him the peace that he had always found by the ocean.  There was only one thing he wanted now - to go back in time _again_ and restart the day, refuse to help Gold and take the consequences of that as it may come.

He had a feeling that a lifetime of fighting to get the rights back to his machine would be far less stressful than the time he was about to spend in Gold's employ.

"We'll remain here for the evening and get a fresh start in the morning.  We have a bit of a journey left to reach my Milah and my son.  And then you'll do as I tell you, or I'll leave you here to rot."  Gold didn't wait for a response, only bent over to retrieve a key from under the step and went inside.

Killian wandered down to the beach and collapsed into the sand, curling in on himself and shaking.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted Emma.

He had to work with Gold if he ever wanted to see her again.  If he didn’t, or if he waylaid the damned crocodile in any way, who knew what he would do to Emma before Killian even met her.

A world without her in it wasn’t worth getting up for in the morning.

Killian sat out on the sand until it was too dark to see, stumbling his way up to the boardwalk and collapsing on a picnic table bench.  He couldn’t - _wouldn’t_ \- go into the house with that monster.

He’d rather freeze.

The clipped steps of dress shoes on wood woke him early the next morning, his jacket draped over him and the sun shining in his eyes.

He was shivering.

“Good morning, _captain_ ,” Gold sneered.  “I trust you’re ready?”

“I’m ready to pay the price and get this over with.”  Killian blinked rapidly to clear the sleep from his brain and tried to focus.

“Good.  After you,” Gold gestured towards the car.

Killian rose to his feet as gracefully as possible and shrugged his way into Liam’s jacket.  The weight of the leather on his shoulders felt just a little more heavy today, just a little like he was trying to avoid his brother’s disapproving glare.

 _Bugger off, Liam_ , he thought angrily at the apparition yelling at him in his mind, _I’m doing what I_ bloody _have to._

Gold pointed Killian towards a flashy cadillac, the leather of the seats squeaky and pristine as he slid inside.  It was all he could do to keep staring ahead, chin up, and not drop his head in utter defeat.  He was going to do whatever Gold asked of him, and he was just going to have to live with that.

He needed to get back to Emma.

They drove through town after town, city after city, and Killian wondered idly why Gold had chosen the spot and time he had if they were just going to have to travel so much when they got here.  Surely, he could have calculated it bet-

They drove into New York City proper, all the skyscrapers and people crowding Killian in and suffocating him.  

 _Oh_.  

Couldn’t exactly land a time machine in the middle of Times Square and hope the better part of half a million people didn’t notice it sitting there.

Gold pulled into a parking garage finally, cutting the engine and leaving the keys on the seat.  “No one would dare take it,” he assured Killian.

Killian wished someone would.

Gold led them into a small bar, ushering Killian into a booth near the back and dropping a picture down at his place.  “We’re looking for her.”

Killian stared at the surveillance photo, his breath caught in his throat.  

_Milah._

Neal’s mother.

The free spirited woman who had raised the only boy in Killian’s school who hadn’t looked at him like he was a freak.

The woman who had insisted Killian call her by her first name and who had given him a place to hide his insecurities and his bruises when his father’s drunken stupors had cut a little too close to the quick.

Milah _Gold_ , it turned out.  Not Milah Cassidy.

“I… I know her,” he managed when Gold asked him what the problem was.

The man smirked.  “Not yet, you don’t.”

“What do you wa- what are you going to _do_ to her?”

Gold slid into his side of the booth, watching the door with more interest than Killian.  “I’m going to make sure that I don’t lose my son,” was the cryptic answer he offered.

Killian wanted nothing more than to take off at a sprint, steal the car Gold was arrogant enough to leave unlocked and unattended, and race back to his machine.

But Gold had the key.

And the power to destroy Emma’s life.

So he sat in the booth, mapping out all the possible ways this could go terribly and horribly wrong.  He knew, he _knew_ , that he should never have trusted Gold.  He should never have let the University compel him to work with the man.

They sat in the bar for hours, picking at greasy food and sipping at alcohol that burned Killian’s throat.

And then he saw her.

Even as a young lad, he’d thought Milah was beautiful.  Her long, dark hair and the mystical look she held in her eyes, brimming with secrets that he’d wanted to know.

She was younger than he remembered her, of course.  But she wasn’t quite so stunning now - he could see how being Gold’s wife weighed her down, took some of the shine from her, and made her seem sad.  Lost.  Hurt.

And Killian was going to play a part in breaking her even further.

Milah sidled up to a group of men who had been at the bar for nearly as long as Killian and Gold.  They were raucous and fun, loud and bawdy.

Nothing like the man with whom he was sharing a table and _everything_ he remembered the woman in question to be.

They watched her all evening, Killian feeling more and more nauseated at the sinister smile that morphed Gold’s features as he was clearly plotting his… _their_ next steps.

And then suddenly, she was leaving, and they were following.

Milah strode out of the bar like she was living the dream, still riding the high of her evening.  But as they followed her down streets and across alleys, Killian could see the weight of the world, her responsibilities, settle back on her shoulders.

He caught sight of a newspaper in a magazine rack as they flew past.  He and Neal were only 5 years old right now.

“Why tonight?” Killian mused out loud as they paused at an intersection, never letting Milah get too far ahead.

Gold chuckled darkly.  “Because at this very moment, I’m having a very illustrious dinner with the police commissioner, the governor, and several congressmen who will be able to vouch for my whereabouts with no chance of someone impugning their testimony later.”

Killian’s heart dropped somewhere in the vicinity of his knees.

“I’m not going to-”

“-you’ll do whatever I damn well please if you ever want to get home.   _You_ don’t exist in this timeline, dearie.  I can erase you and no one will ever know the difference.”

Killian started to shake.

This was very, _very_ wrong.

They finally caught up with Milah as she ducked down an alleyway to cut across the block.  Gold reached out and snagged her arm, spinning her around before Killian could call out a warning.

“Rob… Robert?” she questioned, recognizing him even with the fifteen years of lines and depravity etched onto his face.

“Run,” Killian whispered.  “Milah, you have to _run_.”

But she didn’t know him.  She would _never_ know him now.

“No, I… what’s happened to you?” she asked Gold.  “You should be across town.  And you look so old.”

“That’s not important.  What _is_ important is where you’ve been.  And what’s going to happen next.”  Gold sneered.

Killian pounced, grabbing Gold’s arm and tearing him away from Milah.

“Run!” he urged again.

Gold moved surprisingly quickly for an old man, twisting out of Killian’s grip and yanking _his_ arm backwards until he was shackled to a dumpster.  “I’ll deal with _you_ next.”

“Don’t hurt him,” Milah begged, clearly not understanding what was going on as she hadn’t _run_.  “Please, Robert, what do you want?”

“I want to know why you thought you could never have a family with _me_.  Why you’re going to run off and steal my boy away from me?  Can you tell me _that_ , dearie?”

Milah blanched.  “You can’t… you can’t know that.  I haven’t…”

“Not yet,” Gold shook his head.  “But you’re going to.  And then _I’m_ going to lose _everything_ that matters to me.”

“Every… you mean _Neal_?  You’re going to…” she trailed off when Gold pulled out a wicked-looking dagger.  “I’ve already got him where you’ll never find him.  I may not know what you want with him, but I have him.”

“Oh, I feel a proposal coming on.”

“Neal in exchange for our”-she nodded at Killian-“lives.  Deal?”

Gold sidled up to her, and Killian couldn’t hear what he said, but Milah’s shoulders drooped.  “He’s with John and Michael.”

Gold cackled.  

“Do we have a deal?” she asked again.  “Can we go our separate ways?”

Gold giggled again, and a chill snaked down Killian’s spine.  “Perhaps, perhaps.  Just one question.  How could you leave Neal?  How can you just let him go?”

“Because I’m _miserable_.”

“Why were you so miserable?”

Milah looked a little thrown by the past tense, but then Killian could see the anger rise up.  “Because I _never_ loved you.”

Killian had a split second to realize what was happening, the dagger shooting up to bury itself to the hilt between her ribs.  “Milah!  No!”

She staggered backwards a step and Killian reached out, only just able to pull her back against him as she fell.  He fell with her, cradling her head as if to keep her safe.  This was his friend’s mother, not much older at this moment than he was, bleeding out in his arms.

He had a second to look down, to see how frightened she was, and then she went slack in his arms.

Dead.

Gone.

“You may have gotten what you wanted here, tonight, Gold, but you’re nothing but a _coward_!”  He rose up, tugging at the cuff around his wrist until the pain centered him.

Gold just shrugged.  “I’ve gotten what I wanted.”

“And now, what?  You’ll kill me, too?”  Killian’s entire field of vision was filled with red.

But Gold shook his head.  “I’m afraid that’s not in the cards for you, sonny boy.”  He reached forward and unlocked the cuffs.

Killian surged up and wrapped his hands around Gold’s throat.  

“Kill me and I’ll crush this,” Gold held out the key to the machine.

Killian let go, stumbling backwards.

“I need you alive.  You’re the only way I can get back to my son.  My son who will have grown up adoring me and only me.”

Killian growled, but he stood down.  “I _will_ find a way to take you down.”

But Gold just giggled again.  “Good luck with that, dearie.  We were never here.”

Killian watched, helplessly, as Gold slid on a glove and reached into a pocket, pulling out a plastic sleeve and dropping a license on the ground.

“And now the police have a plausible suspect.  Let’s go, _captain_ , I need a ride home.”

Killian followed Gold back across the city, head bowed, feet scuffing the sidewalks.  He tore off Liam’s jacket as soon as they were back at the car, balling it up and throwing it in the backseat where he couldn’t look at it.

Milah was _dead_.

Left behind in some cold, dark alley for the rats to find.

“Pull over,” he whimpered, shocked at the sound of his own voice.

Gold must have realized what was going to happen, because he didn’t question Killian, just signaled and pulled off to the shoulder.

Killian barely made it out of the car before he lost the meager contents of his stomach.

“Hurry up,” Gold hissed, pulling back onto the road before Killian had even shut the door.  “And don’t mess up the car.”

He couldn’t get warm.  He couldn’t stop shaking.  He couldn’t stop replaying Milah’s last moments through his head.

It was all he could see.

Gold drove them straight back to the beach house, parking the car in exactly the same spot and dragging Killian - and Liam’s jacket - from the interior before tossing the keys back on the seat.  He pulled Killian down the path through the woods back to the time machine and manhandled him into the seat.

“I trust you know the calculations to get us home?”  It wasn’t a question.

Killian might have nodded, he must have done something to convince the man that he wasn’t about to blow them both up.  Gold inserted the key and triggered the reaction before buckling himself into his seat.

Robotically, Killian dogged the hatch and turned to the computer.  He input the coordinates to return them to the lab, waited for the equation to turn green, and sent them back to an hour after he’d left Emma in the lab.

Part of him hoped they wouldn’t make it.

* * *

Emma paced.

And paced.

And paced.

She knew exactly what time Killian had calculated that they would return - knew it down to the minute and the second - but still, she paced.

Because any number of things could happen, and she would never know.  She just wanted him back in her arms and away from Gold and his shady dealings.  She just wanted Killian wrapped around her on their boulder, watching the sunset and forgetting everything about time travel and murdered brothers with elusive killers and rich, influential men who got their power from manipulation

She just wanted Killian, and nothing else mattered.

David sat calmly at the desk, watching Emma warily every time she got too close to him,  as if he were afraid she was going to pounce.

The door opened a few moments later and Mary Margaret and Ruby sauntered in, grabbed Emma by the arms, and manhandled her to the cafeteria for a late breakfast.  Emma glared at David - who was intelligent enough to look sheepish - but she allowed herself to be led out of the lab.  

Emma wasn’t even sure what they put in front of her, but she ate it automatically, her mind never really leaving the lab.  Killian would be back in 22 minutes and 14...13 seconds, and there was no way that she wouldn’t be waiting for him and whatever damage had already been done by Gold.  It was strange to think that whatever Killian was doing at this very moment in his time had already been completed in Emma’s time however many years back they had traveled.

It made her brain hurt.

How long had Gold kept them in the past?  What had he done?  What had he made Killian do?

_Were they coming back?_

The girls finally let Emma go with a few minutes to spare and she sprinted the entire way across campus.  David was tinkering with something at one of the lab stations, the only clue that he was getting anxious were the constant glances between his watch and the clock on the wall.

Two minutes and 47...46 seconds.

Emma sat at her desk.  Then stood by the supports for the machine.  Then moved to David’s side.

15 seconds.

5 seconds.

Time.

Nothing happened.

Emma shot a worried glance over to David, watching him glance down at his watch again and then to the computer that was monitoring changes in… well, something that Emma still wasn’t entirely sure of.

Two minutes.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Nothing happened.

Emma felt faint, wondering if, for the first time in her life, she was going to pass out.  David had shoved a chair into her knees moments before, forcing her to sit and put her head between her knees.

It didn’t help.

And then she felt as if she were frozen, as if everything that she knew was shifting around in her head.

Twelve minutes in, the air in the room started to crackle with energy and a gust of wind blew everything around the room.

They were back.

Emma hadn’t had the time to pick her head up when she heard it.

An animalistic scream came from within the capsule, long and drawn out and terrifying in its intensity.  She knew that voice anywhere, but had _never_ heard that much pain coming from one individual in her entire life.

 _Killian_.

She raced to the hatch, burning her hands on the still-hot metal as she grasped the dogs and yanked them open.  The screech of the lock inside echoed in her ears, but she was too busy screaming for Killian to hear it.

Finally, _finally_ , the door pulled back and Emma had the barest of seconds to react to Killian before he was collapsing in her arms - shaking, sweating, and gasping.  The scream she had heard seemed to be the last noise he was capable of making as he went boneless and dragged them both to the floor - half in and half out of the cockpit.

“David!” she screamed, trying to roll Killian face-up so that she could see what was wrong, so that she could look at his face, so that she could do _anything_ to get the sound of his pain out of her head.

Then she smelled the blood.

It was a sickly sweet smell, the hint of copper lost among all the other metals in the lab and leaving her gagging.

Where was it coming from?

Killian?

David finally reached her side, working against the tetany of Killian’s muscles as he tried to stay curled in the ball he’d fallen in.  Together they managed to drag him out of the machine and lay him flat, his head cradled in Emma’s lap.

His hand.

 _Oh God, his hand_.

Emma leaned to the side and lost the meal that she’d consumed less than an hour before.

What was left behind where his left hand should have been was a mangled mess of… _meat_ , was the only way Emma’s brain could process it.  It was a bloody mess of muscle and bone and blood, all crumpled up beyond recognition.

Killian groaned once, an approximation of her name, and then went limp.

David reached automatically to check a pulse, smiling shakily at her before he dove for his cell phone.  Emma barely registered him speaking with someone as she curled over Killian protectively, pulling him closer and whispering softly, nonsensically, in his ear.

She was vaguely aware of Gold climbing out of the machine, looking down at Killian and her dispassionately, and then stepping over Killian’s prostrate form as if he were something disgusting that Gold didn’t want to get on the bottom of his shoes.

If Emma hadn’t been so concerned with keeping Killian close, she would have leapt at him.

The old man paused suddenly, mid-step, and seemed to shudder much like Emma had moments before they returned.  His hand shot down to his leg, clutching it as if he, too, were in pain, and then he took a few stuttered steps forward.

“It worked,” he breathed.

Emma didn’t care.

Gold did have one parting shot for them before he limped out of the room.

“You’ll have to come up with something that doesn't incriminate me, Miss Swan. Or I'll shut this whole project down and your boyfriend will never save his brother.  If Killian survives the trip to the hospital, that is.”


	12. To Keep Silence and to Speak

**_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/167311908292/so-emma-sat-some-more-and-when-she-was-done-with)!_**

* * *

* * *

Agony.

Heat.

Sick.

Burning.

Nausea.

Hurts.

Hurts.

Hurts.

Make it stop.

Killian’s entire world focused down to the inferno at the end of his wrist.  The slightest brush of air fanned the flames and sent shocks of white-hot pain lancing down his arm.  He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t _think_.  Someone was screaming.

Was it _him_?

They had landed.  He thought.  It didn’t matter.  The only thing that did was getting out of the machine and away from whatever had turned his hand into an incendiary.  Something, _anything_ , to get rid of the agony that was sapping his strength, his will, his sense.

He was going to pass out.

There was nothing for it, he had to open the door.  He had to get out.

But his _hand_.  Oh God, his _hand_ was on fire.

Killian fumbled to stand from where he'd been thrown in flight - not bothering to buckle his harness had been a monumental mistake.  He was vaguely aware of yelling, of the sounds that were coming from outside the machine, of the glare that was coming from the man with him.  Was he important?

No.  Not right now.

Now he needed to get out.  He needed to stand.  He needed _her_.

His brain couldn't exactly pin a name or a face to the thought, but he knew it was paramount.

He _needed_ her.

And then she was there.  And then he was in her arms.

And then his hand tried to reach for her spasmodically, and he was back to focusing on every minute particle in the air that was assaulting his hand.  He was sure that there was a ball of fire gripped in his palm, burning it from the inside out and leaving a smoldering pile of ash in its wake.

Just cut it off.  Get rid of it.  Make it stop.

But _no_.  He needed his hand.  He needed to be whole.

A brief memory of an old man with one hand flittered through his consciousness before it was gone, replaced by pain and agony and nausea and the scent of her hair.

Don't look.

Don't think.

Help me.

 _Emma_.

Help me, Emma!

Everything went black.

* * *

Emma thought the paramedics believed her about an accident with the heavy, metal hatch that David had haphazardly smeared blood all over moments before.  She didn’t really care one way or another, but Killian would.  In the days and weeks and months ahead of him while he recovered, the time machine ready and waiting for him would help.  She thought.

She hoped.

She couldn’t focus on anything other than the blinding lights as they wheeled Killian to the waiting ambulance, the mask on his face fogging up with every comforting breath, the IV line in his right hand - the line that had delivered the medications that had stopped him from gasping in pain, even in unconsciousness.

And then all Emma could see was the door shutting, her only glimpse of Killian through the tinted window.

“No!” she cried, startled by the sound of her own voice.

Emma moved forward without really thinking, her hand coming up to pull open the door.

Someone tried to stop her.  “We need to take him now, Miss.”

“I…”

“Family only,” they tried to reason with her.

Emma growled.  “I _am_ his family.”

The paramedic rolled his eyes, and Emma thought about punching him.  But that would delay Killian’s care and _he_ was what mattered right now.

“You can sit up front,” the young man relented.

Emma scrambled before someone changed their mind.

And then she was summarily planted in a waiting room with every Tom, Dick, and Harry who had wandered in off the street with the sniffles, Emma snarked angrily to herself as she waited.

_Not family.  We’ll let you know.  Call his parents._

Emma seethed.

And then a nurse who had worked on Killian’s leg the last time he’d been brought in took mercy on her and moved her to a more private waiting area.

“He listed you as his emergency contact when he was discharged last time,” the woman explained.  “You’ll still have to wait out here, but I’ll make sure the doctors come out to speak to you if any decisions need to be made.”

Emma was going to pass out.

_Decisions?_

She was shaking now, replaying the last few hours in her mind.  They’d been so happy that morning, wrapped up in each other.  It had only been a few hours, right?  What _time_ was it?  Did it matter?

Emma wasn’t sure how David and Mary Margaret had weaseled their way past Nurse Ratched at the admission desks, but they were soon by her side, wrapping her fingers around a travel mug that smelled suspiciously like Granny’s hot chocolate and dwarfing her with David’s warm coat.

“Miss Swan?” a doctor called out as he came to stand in front of them.

Emma nodded.

“Can we speak privately?”

Emma nodded again.

She thought he might take her to an office, or at least somewhere more private than the hallway.

He didn’t.

“I don’t really have time to mince words, so I won’t,” he started, and Emma felt the blood drain from her face.  “There’s simply too much damage and I wouldn’t even know where to start trying to repair his hand.  Whatever crushed the limb did a damn good job of wrecking his chances.  We need your permission to remove it before he becomes septic.”

Emma locked her knees before she hit the floor, but it was a near thing.  “What?” she asked, alarmed at how weak she sounded.

“You’re his emergency contact.  Because of the medications we have him on, he’s not cognizant and can’t make this decision.  Either we take him to an operating suite and remove the dead tissue, or we take our chances trying to find something to repair.”  He paused, clearly waiting.  Clearly not thinking there _was_ a choice to be made.

Emma looked around helplessly.  Lose his hand?  How could he cope with only one?  How would he react?

What if he hated her for making this decision?

“Miss Swan, we need to-”

“-do it,” she commanded before she could second-guess herself.  She’d heard of sepsis, knew how dangerous it could be.

Killian may hate her for losing his hand, but she’d hate herself more if he lost his life.

The doctor didn’t even wait to see if she was okay, just took off at a sprint.

“Wait!” she cried, tearing down the hall after him.

He looked exasperated.  “Miss-”

“Can I see him?”

He shook his head.  “He won’t know you’re there.”

“But I’ll know,” she whispered.

He sighed, but nodded.  “Just while we’re finding an open suite.  But then you’ll have to go.  Every minute counts, understand?”

She nodded again, following him meekly down the hall and into the trauma room.

_Killian._

Killian looked so _small_.

Emma was shocked to see him, the only one still amidst a flurry of activity.  He was wrapped up in so many wires and tubes, an oxygen mask, and blankets that Emma had trouble seeing _him_ in the clutter.

He was so pale.

So still.

So _vulnerable._

Emma was caught up in the ridiculous need to shoo everyone from the room, to wrap him up in her arms, to take him away from all of this.  Which was absurd, naturally, but it didn’t stop her from crossing the room to take up residence at his side.

What was left of his hand was wrapped in thick gauze, resting high on a stack of pillows.  There was a cuff around his forearm, and Emma didn’t want to think about what it was for.  She lifted his right hand, tangling their fingers together and squeezing.

She didn’t _really_ expect a response, but her stomach still clenched when she didn’t get one.

He was so _cold_.

“Careful, miss,” a nurse admonished.  “Don’t disturb anything.”

Emma nodded shakily, glancing down at their hands to make sure she hadn’t touched anything.  Her other hand came back to brush Killian’s hair away from his forehead, then leaned down and gently kissed the chilled skin there.

“Come back to me, Killian,” she whispered.

His eyes fluttered.

“Jones?” she whispered again, more hopefully this time.

She could just see the blue of his eyes beneath bruised eyelids, his pupils shifting around lazily.  His fingers twitched in her hand and she smiled gratefully.

“I’m right here, Killian.  I’m gonna be right here when you wake up.”

He muttered something unintelligible, the whoosh of oxygen in his mask stealing his words.

“I love you, too,” she replied anyway, knowing it was what she needed him to have said.  “Stay strong for me, okay?”

The barest of nods was her response, and then he was out again.

“We need to take him now,” the same nurse said gently, already moving the side rail up on the bed.

Emma thought the hardest thing she’d ever had to do was to let go of his hand and back away.

She was ushered up to yet another waiting room, this one equipped with a television and coffee maker and already home to Mary Margaret, David, and now Ruby as well.

“The doctor will come out and let you know when everything is done.”

Emma wanted to say something, wanted to _do_ something, but she was frozen.  Somewhere in the hospital, a doctor was cutting Killian’s hand off.  She knew, logically, that there was an art and a science to it, that they were trained in how to best help Killian in the long run.

It didn’t stop her from imagining someone just slicing it off with a sword.

Emma sat alone, curled up in the corner of what passed for a couch as time passed them by.  She wasn’t sure if it was hours, or days, or weeks since she’d last spoken with Killian, since he’d been awake and worried about what the future was going to bring.

Their friends took turns trying to draw her into conversation, to bring her snacks and drinks that she barely tasted, and in one horrendous moment, to try and hug her.  

They only tried that once.

She vaguely remembered Granny, herself, coming over with a steaming cup of chocolate and a plate of lasagna.  The old woman had draped a soft blanket over Emma’s shoulders and tutted sadly before she, too, admitted defeat.

Emma only wanted Killian.

When the doctor finally came into the room, looking tired but satisfied, Emma tried to pay attention.  Phrases like “transradial amputation” and “long enough for good range of motion” and “good for his future” filtered through, but it wasn’t what she needed to hear.

She needed to know when he’d be awake so that she could be there.

She’d promised.

They wouldn’t let her in the recovery room, of course, and she understood that.  But when the doctor had suggested that she go home for the evening and come back in a few days, David had had to hold her back from hitting him.

Mary Margaret had been busy doing the same to Ruby.

So Emma sat some more.  And when she was done with that, she paced.  And when she was done with that, she stared out the window.  She wasn’t leaving until she saw him and, if she had her way, not even then.

He needed her.

She hoped.

It was long past midnight before Emma heard anything else.  This time from an perky young woman who introduced herself as Killian's new best friend.

Emma bristled.

But then she began to understand - this was the psychologist who was going to hopefully help Killian come to terms with his new situation.  Emma tried to rein in the protective part of her that wanted to keep all her belongings - human or otherwise - to herself.

And then Anna became Emma's best friend with one statement.

“He's going to need you at his side as much as possible.”

Emma almost hugged her.

Anna took her by the hand and led her down one hallway after another.  If she led Emma to an office with a couch to lay down on, they were going to have a different discussion than the psychologist intended.

But the opening of a door led Emma exactly where she wanted to be.

“He was awake for a moment in Recovery, and he asked for you.  He'll probably sleep through most of tomorrow, but no one will bother you.”  Anna followed her in and made sure Emma was as comfortable as she could manage in the cushioned chair at Killian's right side.

His head was tilted to one side, as if he were waiting for her to join him, and Emma had to remind herself that they were in the hospital - that he'd likely be there for some time - and that it wasn't the time to cuddle.  Her gaze traced down his left arm deliberately, taking in the thick bandages and the startling end where his hand used to be.  Her stomach tied itself into knots at the sight, but she continued to stare at it until it just seemed to be another part of him.

Killian was going to have a hard enough time trying to cope with his loss, he didn't need to worry about how she was going to react to it, too.

“I'll leave you two alone,” Anna piped up, making Emma jump.  “But if _you_ need to speak to anyone, Emma, I've got an open door and two good ears.”

Emma nodded.  The mere thought of speaking to someone like Anna terrified her, but if it would help Killian - if it would help _her_ help Killian, then she would get over her own discomfort.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice scratchy from disuse.

Anna grinned and handed her Killian’s glasses.  “I'll bring you a sandwich.  And some of my favorite hot chocolate before I finish my rounds.  I think you'll like it.”

Emma smiled.

Killian did sleep through the majority of the day, as did Emma.  She only woke up when the nurses came in to check on Killian - taking vitals and eventually changing the bandages over his stump.

The drain that snaked out of the wound was by far the most shocking part of the whole thing, and Emma found herself feeling slightly ill at the sight of it.  But she forced herself to watch everything that the nurses did until she could cope.

She wanted to run.

She wanted to curl up with Killian and never leave his side.

She wanted to go back to the lab and use the machine to prevent Killian from ever building it in the first place.

She wanted him to wake up.

As if Killian had heard her, his eyes fluttered open and met her gaze.

“Hey,” she whispered, reaching out to brush the hair back from his forehead.

He mumbled something as his eyebrows furrowed, and Emma sat forward until she could brush her lips over the wrinkles there.

“Just rest,” she ordered, squeezing his fingers tightly.  “I’m right here.”

“Don’t go,” he muttered pitifully.

Emma shook her head violently.  “Never,” she vowed.

He smiled.  It was a little thing, barely twitching the sides of his mouth up, but it seemed to Emma as if he were beaming.

“Hey,” she called again, waiting until his eyes cleared and he was looking fully at her.

Killian made some kind of questioning noise when she didn’t speak for long moments.

She smiled back at him.  “I love you.”

Now he _was_ beaming, tugging at her hand until she gave in and leaned forward to meet his lips in a chaste kiss.  Everything seemed to settle around them and between them and in _her_ , and while it would be a long while before they could do more than that, _this kiss_ just made everything right.

“I love you, too,” he mumbled, already dropping back to sleep.

He hadn’t asked about his hand, and Emma was ashamed to realize she was relieved.  She didn’t know how much he remembered, if he even knew where he was or what they’d done to him while he was unconscious.

What _she’d_ done to him.

Maybe Killian wasn’t the only one who needed to talk to Anna, after all.

* * *

Awareness came to Killian in fits and starts.  Emma had been there at first.  He didn’t really remember how he got from the time machine to her arms, but knew it had happened.  Then he vaguely remembered being surrounded by doctors while immense pain tore his attention away.  There wasn’t much after that, maybe a cold and sterile room with more medical staff in face masks.  Not so much pain there, but fear - he couldn’t find Emma.

Emma meant he was safe.

 _Stay strong for me, okay?_ and then **Where’s Emma? I need Emma** _._ and then _I love you_.

He remembered _I love you_ most of all.  Because he hadn’t needed to say it first that time.

And now, as he fought against the vestiges of sleep, he could smell her hair.  She was there, and if he could manage to open his eyes, he was sure Emma would smile at him.

If she smiled, then everything would be all right.

Her fingers were slipping through his hair, he was sure, but it was dark and comfortable in this half-asleep state, and he wasn’t ready to leave.  There was something tickling at the edge of his mind, something that he didn’t want to know about.  Didn’t want to face.

If he stayed asleep, he wouldn’t have to.

Emma was there, that was all that mattered.

He slipped back into the darkness.

Killian floated there for a few minutes or a few days, he wasn’t really sure, but eventually he was called back to wakefulness by voices around him.

“...how to tell him.”

“I can help…”

“I’m just worried…”

“...it from you.”

“...love him so much.”

 _Emma_.  That last one was Emma.  And he didn’t think he recognized the woman she was talking to - he was sure that someone that excitable, he’d remember.  Curiosity got to him and Killian finally managed to open his eyes.  Blearily, he looked around until he could focus on the blonde hair startlingly close to his face.

“Emma,” the perky voice called out and jerked his attention away from his girl.

“Hey there, you with me this time?” Emma asked, her fingers tracing the scar on his cheek as he turned his head towards her.

“I go somewhere?” he croaked, surprised at how awful his voice sounded.

Emma just smiled gently.  “Doesn’t matter now.  How are you feeling?”

“Fuzzy,” he whined a little.

She nodded.  “I bet.  They’ve got you on some pretty good stuff.”

His eyebrows furrowed.   _Who?_ and then _What?_  He focused beyond Emma, the stark and clean smell, the antiseptic looking walls, the rhythmic beeping, the scratchy sheets and the lumpy mattress.

_Hospital?_

It all came back in a startling moment of clarity.  Gold.  Milah.  Dead.  Travel.  Hand.  Hand.  Hand.  Emma.  Stay strong.  Don’t go.  I love you.

Killian sat up abruptly, trying to curl in on himself against the onslaught of memories.  He was vaguely aware of Emma’s arms around him, of someone else holding his left arm still, of his gasping breaths.

“Breathe, Killian.  Breathe for me.  Please?”

It was the please that did it, Emma’s breathless plea in his ear, fear and worry all wrapped up in one word.  He took a shuddering breath and then another, sagging into her embrace and letting her strength buoy his own.

“Wait,” she commanded, and he didn’t understand.  She said it again.  “Wait.”

He wanted to ask what he was waiting for, why she needed him to do so, but when she hissed it a third time, Killian realized she wasn’t talking to him.  Wasn’t _ordering_ him to stop.  He managed to look around and saw a syringe poised over an IV port, the man wielding it looking over his head at Emma.

“He’s fine.  Aren’t you, Jones?”

He nodded.  He could calm down for her.

Killian focused on the way her chest rose and fell where they were pressed together, matching his own breaths to hers and fighting off the spots that had started to cloud his vision.  The man backed away slowly and then left, leaving he and Emma - and another woman he hadn’t noticed before - alone.

“That’s it, Emma, keep talking to him,” the woman said softly, still holding his left arm.

He looked at the woman when Emma asked, “Can I…”

“Sure.”

The next thing he felt was Emma climbing up into the bed with him and tugging him back to rest against her.  He went willingly, the burst of adrenaline now nearly spent.  He was finally content when she hugged him tightly.  The other woman’s grip on his arm slowly released as she, too, backed away.

“You’ll be fine,” she directed towards Emma.  “I’ll check back later.”

Emma made a little noise of protest, but it was to the woman’s back before the door shut behind her.  Killian settled down against Emma, letting her cradle his head against her shoulder.  He saw her hand snake down his left arm to hold it secure, but his still-fuzzy brain couldn’t quite understand why he couldn’t _feel_ her grip there.

And then he saw it.  For the first time, he was able to clearly put together the immense fire he'd felt with what it meant.

His hand was gone.

Cut off abruptly at the wrist and swathed in so many bandages that he could almost pretend that there was a fist wrapped tightly beneath the gauze.  His breathing started to pick up again, tears stinging his eyes as he continued to stare in horror.  It was gone.

Gone.

Lost.

He thought he heard Emma speaking softly in his ear, her fingers tight against his cheek as she tried to turn his head away.  Her own left hand was grasping his forearm, but she needn't have worried.  He couldn't move his arm, couldn't _feel_ his entire arm.

He was panicking, and knowing that didn't help at all.

"-at me.  Killian, look at me.  Look at me," Emma kept repeating in his ear, her voice pitching higher and higher as he ignored her.

"Killi-" her voice broke on his name and it was finally enough to switch his focus.  He rolled his head against her shoulder and took in the wild look in her eyes - it was the look of someone who didn't know if they should run towards or away from the danger.

 _He_ was the danger.

"-mma?" he managed.

Emma's eyes squeezed tightly shut and a harsh whoosh of breath blew across his face as she whimpered a little.  The hand that had been on his wrist moved to tangle in his hair and he began to make out more of what she was saying.

"-sorry.  God, I'm so sorry.  I'm sorry.  Don't hate me.  Please.  Please, Killian.  I'm sorry."

Killian forced his unresponsive body to turn more fully into her embrace, burying his face in her neck and just breathing in the scent of her.  He stayed like that for minutes or hours or weeks, he wasn't entirely sure, but eventually it was enough to calm them both down.

"You're here," was the best he could come up with when his voice started to work again.

If she wasn't going to mention the damp patch on her hoodie, then he wasn't either.

"I'm here," Emma whispered back, hugging him impossibly tighter than she had been.  "I'm not going anywhere.  God, Killian, I've been so worried."

He nodded noncommittally, not sure what his response should be to all of this.

The most pressing, then.

"It's gone?"

_Way to state the obvious, Jones._

Emma nodded and he could feel her tears soaking his forehead.  “I’m so sorry."

He was confused.  What on earth was Emma _sorry_ about?  His hand?  That wasn't her fault.  Did something else go wrong?  Did she know about Milah?  Did she-

He must have made some kind of noise, because she was nodding against his forehead.  "I am.  Please, God, Killian.  I'm sorry."

Killian pulled his head back, searching out her gaze with his own.  He was so tired, he had so many questions he needed to know the answers to.  But first, he had to make sure she was all right.

"What is it, luv?" he croaked.

Emma shook her head and leaned her forehead against his own.  "It's my fault," she whispered.

"What?" he hadn't meant to sound quite so defensive, but none of this was her fault.

She sniffled.  "I'm your emergency contact," she said as if that explained _anything_.

"I know," he told her.  "I'm the one who put you there."

 _That_ didn't seem to fix anything.  She nodded, moving both of their heads when she did so.  "So it's my fault," she tried again.

He still didn't understand.

"I..."

And then her gaze cut over to where his arm still lay awkwardly behind him.  And he understood.  "Oh, Emma," he breathed sadly.

Her breath caught in her throat when Killian slid his arm behind her so that he could tug her into the best hug he could manage.  " _I’m_ sorry, luv.  I'm sorry you had to do that."

"You don't hate me?" she asked timidly, burrowing into his side as well as she could manage.

Killian settled back against the bed, wrapping his right arm around her tightly so they could both rest.  He could already feel the pull of sleep, and he still had so many questions - namely, why couldn't he feel his entire _arm_ \- but they could wait until after he'd slept.

Emma couldn't.

"No, luv, never," he vowed, going onto explain further.  "It's not your fault.  And I'm glad you were here.  Glad you _are_ here."

"Always," she whispered, her breath only hitching a little over the word.

He smiled into her hair, letting his eyes drift shut as he listened to all the machines in the room.  The last thing he was aware of before he fell asleep was Emma's breath whispering over his chest.

If the way the shadows in the room played over Emma's form was any indication, they'd slept for several hours.  She was still sleeping easily, her hand curled just slightly over his heart.   _God, did he love her_ , he thought idly, tilting his head to breathe in the scent of her hair.

Someone shifting on a chair to his left caught Killian's attention, so he rolled his head on the pillow, trying not to wake Emma.

The woman from earlier was sitting there, smiling at him disarmingly.

Killian was instantly on edge.

"Hi!" she perked up, and Killian startled at the bounciness in her tone.  "I'm Anna."

He nodded hesitantly.  "Hello."

"I just wanted to introduce myself.  We'll probably be talking a bit, later, when you've had a little time to - you know - process and all that jazz."

Killian's brow furrowed until his brain caught up with the speed of her speech.  "You're a shrink."  It wasn't a question.

Anna nodded anyway.  "I am.  Emma and I talked a little while we were waiting for you to wake up."

"I'm not re-"

"Oh, I know you're not ready yet.  But I just wanted to get in here at the start so you'd be used to seeing me, and to see if you had any questions.  Your doc will be in a little later to check on you again, but I can try to answer anything first," she paused, smiling conspiratorially, "in real-person speak."

The corner of Killian's mouth twitched up involuntarily.  "Can she stay?"

It was the only question that really mattered at the moment.

Anna nodded.  "As long as you want.  I made sure of it."

The fist around his heart loosened a little bit knowing that no one was going to take her from him.  Not now, not when he was so painfully adrift and Emma was his only beacon.

"Thank you."

She grinned.  "I'll come back later and check on you again.  Maybe bring Emma something to eat that didn't come from our cafeteria" - she looked apologetic - "but you're probably going to have to make do with what they give you for awhile."

The thought of food turned Killian's stomach anyway, so he just nodded and watched her leave.

"I like her," Emma interjected before he could tilt his head back down to rest against hers.

He huffed out a breath.  "And how long have you been awake?"

"Since Anna said 'hi'," she replied easily.  "She's kinda loud."

He did laugh this time, and it felt good.

But then everything came crashing back down around him, and Killian wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.

“Hey,” Emma breathed in his ear - and when had she moved? - “It’s going to be okay.”

Killian nodded even though he didn’t believe her.

"Emma?" he asked some time later, when his breathing was more under control and he didn't feel quite so lost.  

She replied with a hum to let him know she was listening, her nose buried in a book that he knew she wasn't really reading.

He gulped quietly, afraid to know the answer, but determined to find out.  "I... why can't I feel my arm?" he whispered on a breath.

She tilted her head to look up at him.  "That hasn't worn off yet?"

 _Worn off_ , it wasn't permanent.  He shook his head, relief already surging through him.

"Oh," she sounded a little confused.  "Well, I don't know exactly _how_ they did it, but the doctors made your arm numb for awhile so it wouldn't hurt right away when you woke up.  Doctor Whale should be-"

On cue, a man in scrubs walked in and explained more about Killian's amputation and what the next few days in hospital were going to entail.  At the end of it, Killian felt a little sick and a lot tired, so when Emma tried to get up to give him some room, he gripped her hip tightly and pulled her in close.

She stayed.

The nerve block wore off a few hours later and tore Killian from vaguely threatening nightmares.  The world was a little blurry without his glasses on and the numbers that usually danced through his vision at the slightest call were terrifyingly silent, lost in the expanse of pain and confusion that had been his recent history.  He groped for the pain pump Whale had explained to him, needing the relief and possibly the dreamless sleep, but was waylaid by a nurse coming into the room.  Killian didn't recall meeting her before, and the dark look in her eyes told him he needed all his faculties about him if he were to survive the encounter.

 _Boy, whatever meds they have you on are making you melodramatic_ , he thought idly as the woman came closer.

"She really shouldn't be sleeping there," the woman commented severely, pointing to the other bed in the room.  "We've provided accommodations for her on your therapist's demands."

Killian's arm tightened around Emma's back.  That other bed was so far away, she couldn't... _he_ couldn't- "Please," he croaked.  "I need her here."

The nurse was very clearly unimpressed with his plea.  "You need to rest and recover.  That doesn't include-"

He shook his head, interrupting her.  Killian tried to make her understand again.  "I've lost... With her here, I..." he couldn't put it into words.

When the woman reached out towards Emma's shoulder, Killian forced himself to explain.

"I love her, and when you love someone, you protect them.  With _this_ " - he raised his left arm a centimeter or two from its perch - "gone, I know I've lost all of that.  And God knows she doesn't need anyone to fight her battles for her.  But with her here, where I can hold her, it feels a little bit like I could still protect her if I had to.  I..." he trailed off when the nurse's hand fell back to her side.

He didn't know how else to reason with the woman, didn't know what else he could say to make her leave Emma with him.  All he knew was that with her at his side, Killian felt like maybe someday - a long time coming, but _some_ day - he could be almost whole again.

"She's the one thing left to me that makes it all worth it."


	13. To Love and to Hate

 

 

 **_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/167561806452/i-didnt-mean-it-like-that-luv-she-nodded-into)!_**

* * *

* * *

“Emma?  Is that you?” came the voice she longed to hear after a long day sequestered in the library.  Emma had been reading through briefs and police reports all afternoon, trying to find some kind of lead that she could follow back to Liam’s killer.  She really needed to talk to Killian about it, see if there was _anything_ he could remember, but just the thought of bringing it up terrified her.  He’d been doing surprisingly well in the months since they’d released him from the hospital - the only real drawback being that they hadn’t been anywhere near the lab since he’d been injured.

He was terrified.

 _She_ was terrified.

So the machine sat, unused, as Liam called out to them both to save him.

 _One battle at a time, buddy_ , Emma thought angrily at the spectre.  She’d heard the catch in Killian’s voice when he’d yelled as she came in.  She dropped her bags and walked quickly down the hall, unsure of what she’d find behind the door to their room.

She couldn’t see him.

"Here, luv," he whispered, and Emma realized that she _could_ just see the disheveled mop of hair peeking up over the edge of the bed.

Killian was slumped against the side of the mattress, his head pillowed against the bedside table.  His hand was wrapped tightly around a wet towel that he had slung over his stump.

 _Phantom pains_ , her mind automatically concluded.  The brace for his prosthetic attachments was abandoned at his side, half under the bed, and she could see the redness of the skin where it had rubbed while he'd worn it.

"Do you want me to get the ball or more warm towels?" Emma asked, the familiarity of the situation lost on her as she sought to ease his discomfort.

Killian made some kind of noise, but it wasn't really an answer.  His eyes were screwed shut, tiny inhalations not nearly enough to fill his lungs.  Emma reached above him and dragged her pillow down until it bopped him on the forehead.

He lifted his head away from the drawer so she could cushion it, collapsing right back in the same place as soon as she let him.  That done, Emma dug through the basket at the end of the bed until she found a spiky massage ball amidst the different supplies for his rehabilitation.  Killian whined in protest when she unwound the towel and tossed it to the side.

"Killian!" she admonished.  "That was cold."

He grumbled, his eyes still squeezed shut.

" _Yes_ , Killian,” she sighed exasperatedly.  “I will pick it up _later_ and put it in the hamper."

He nodded succinctly, then breathed out a sigh of relief as she began to roll the ball over the sensitive skin at his wrist.  She started lightly, just enough to give him a new sensation to focus on, then slowly began to increase the pressure as his grip on his forearm eased.  It took longer than she'd like, but eventually he let go of his arm entirely and shifted so he rested against her side, his head pillowed on her shoulder, his stump supported by both of their thighs.

"Better?" Emma whispered when he finally seemed to relax fully.

Killian nodded.  His hand moved to rest on her knee, thumb tracing circles over the denim idly.  “Aye, luv, thank you.”

Emma watched the pattern for awhile, caught up in the intricacy of the random swirls.  He'd been doing better, both with the rehab and with his own comfort wearing the prosthetic.  It had taken Killian weeks after she'd brought him home to even leave their room - not wanting anyone to see the way his arm stopped abruptly at the wrist.  They'd had their second worst fight in the history of their relationship that first night when he had tried to convince her to sleep on the futon or to let him sleep on the beat-up old chair in the corner of their room.  Emma knew that he'd spent the night wide awake, turned on his side and trying in vain to keep her from resting her hand anywhere near his arm.  She knew this because she'd spent the entire night wide awake as well, trying to inch her fingers closer to his elbow - afraid to hold any closer to his wrist lest she hurt him - but wanting to make sure Killian knew that she didn't see him for his injury, she just saw _him_.

Things had come a long way, from the first fittings with the prosthetic to the physical therapy and the appointments with Anna for the both of them.  Killian still wasn't comfortable with short sleeves or with other people seeing him use the prosthetic in public, but he was fine with _her_ seeing, feeling, holding the stump.  With her rolling the sock on and off, buckling the brace, fitting the attachments.

He was getting there.

But whether or not Killian was comfortable with the reactions of other people didn't bother Emma.  It was the fact that he was too terrified of what had happened to even go near the building that housed his machine.  The nightmares that plagued him nearly nightly were sapping his strength and sometimes his patience, but Killian couldn't stomach the reminder and had taken as many steps as possible to avoid the science building.

And she knew that was eating away at him, too.

"How was your day?" she asked, her own fingers dancing over the scar his doctors had expertly left behind.

Killian shrugged.  "Not bad.  PT was hard this morning, they upped almost all of my weights.  And my class has an exam next block, so they were all up in arms about what was going to be included and what wasn't.  But I turned in some more work on my thesis and the rest of my own classes today were fairly mundane.”

"That's good about PT, though!" she exclaimed, turning to kiss his forehead.

He nodded.  “And what did you get up to?"

Emma took a deep breath.  It had never been the time before, but maybe now - when Killian needed a little push to reclaim what he'd pulled away from - maybe now was the time.  "I..." - she shut her eyes tightly - "I spent most of today in the library, doing research."

"On that _lovely_ project that Professor Clark has you working on?"

It was Emma's turn to nod mutely.

"You've been working on that forever, luv, surely he has enough research by now."

She shook her head.

"Really?" Killian asked incredulously, his head still resting on her shoulder.  Emma could feel the way he tensed up, though, and lifted her hand to hold him in place.  She couldn't tell him this if he was looking at her.

"There's..." Emma took a deep breath.  "There's something I haven't exactly told you."

His fingers stopped tracing patterns immediately, catching her free hand and intertwining them.  "What is it?"

This was it.  The moment of truth.  What she should have told him months ago.  "I... I haven't been doing research for Professor Clark.  Or, well, I _have_ , but not on the history of Supreme Court decisions where there hasn't been a unanimous verdict."

"All right..." Emma could feel the way Killian tensed up, and was thankful that he didn't try to move from her side again.

She had a feeling she _would_ be sleeping on the futon tonight.

"I..." her breath caught in her throat.  He wasn't ready for this.   _She_ wasn't ready for this.

Killian squeezed her fingers.  "I hope you know you can tell me anything, Swan."

She nodded, but she wasn't sure she really agreed with him.

"I've been trying to figure out who murdered Liam," she spit out without pausing between words, hoping to somehow soften the blow that was going to take down both of them.

"You what?" Killian breathed.  He didn't sound angry, not yet.

Emma took a shaky, deep breath and repeated herself more slowly, bracing for the fallout.  "I've been looking into how... why Liam was killed.  Trying to see if I can find who did it."

He did pick his head up now, and Emma felt the loss immediately.  "Have you found anything?"

 _That_ wasn't what she'd expected.  Anger, yes, and betrayal for keeping this secret from him, especially after the last few months where his temper was on a hair-trigger.  She didn’t expect the curiosity to come until later.

She nodded, refusing to look anywhere other than the carpet by their feet.

"I think so.  I tracked down the police officer who was first on scene and have been working with him to try and piece together what happened.  I... _we_ think that we may have a lead."

Killian stood up abruptly and moved to the window.  A chill rocked through Emma and she resisted the urge to curl up in a ball to protect herself from the world.  From how thoroughly Killian could break her with whatever he said and did next.  God, she was a fool.

"Why are you doing this?"  He sounded hurt, his voice cracking as he spoke.  "So you can be just like the rest of them?  Tell me how to grieve?  How to move on?  I _can’t_ move on, Swan.  Don't you get that?  He's... he's all I have."

Emma felt cold.  This time she did pull her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and trying not to fall apart.  "You have _me_ now," she tried, trying not to break.

He shook his head, turning to her as her own voice cracked.  When they locked eyes, he cursed and then crossed the room again until he could pull her up and into his arms.  "I didn't mean it like that, luv."

She nodded into his chest.  Her own arms wrapped tightly around his back, erasing any space between them as if she could keep her own mistakes from tearing them apart.  She’d screwed up, but she couldn’t… she _couldn’t_ lose him.  Not now.  

"I didn't do it to hurt you,” she tried again to explain.  “Or to try and stop you.  I thought that it would help."

Killian scoffed.  "How does knowing who the bastard is _help_?  How does tearing into my past _help?_  Did you look into my father, too?  See the reports there of… No, Emma, it doesn’t change anything.  I still need to-"

"-to have a clue as to what you're looking for when you go back?" she interrupted, ignoring what he _didn’t_ say about his father.

Killian pulled back, but didn't let her go.  Emma’s hands clutched at his shirt anyway.  

"For when I go back?" he parroted in disbelief.

Emma nodded.

"You're not going to try and stop me?" he asked, sounding more like a lost boy and less like the man she'd come to love than she'd ever heard him.

Emma's head shot up so she could look him in the eye.  " _Stop you_?”

He shrugged.

"When have I _ever_ tried to stop you?"  She sounded more hurt than she'd intended.

Killian broke eye contact first, looking down at his socked feet.  "Never," he whispered with a shrug.

Emma nodded even though he couldn't see it.  "Never," she affirmed.

He didn't look up, and she saw the way his shoulders slumped forward.  "Maybe I want you to," he admitted before stepping away from their embrace and slinking out of the room.

Emma shut her eyes against the pain he'd left behind.

It took her more than a few minutes to follow him, the sound of chopping coming from the kitchen the biggest clue as to where he'd gone.  There were a number of carrot chunks on the cutting board - some thick and smooth, some tiny and ragged - but it was clear that Killian was fighting with the vegetable as his stump tried to stabilize it.  Emma let him finish before she snuck up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her nose between his shoulder blades.  The soft cotton was the only barrier between their skin.

"Talk to me," she urged when he didn't reach for another carrot.

The muscles in his back tightened, and his head came up quickly.  "I don't know what to tell you," he admitted as if it physically pained him to speak.

"Whatever you want," Emma tried.  "I'm right here."

Killian let the air in his lungs rush out of him, almost sagging in her embrace.  "I'm scared," he breathed.

Emma tightened her grip around him, but she didn't speak.

"I... if the price for going back was this steep the first time" - he let his arm run over her fingers as if she needed the reminder - "then what is it going to be next time?  We just don't know enough about how this works.  I shouldn't have... I made a mistake.  Made so many mistakes..."

Emma turned him around forcibly.  "No!   _You_ didn't make the mistake” - she poked him in the chest, hard - “Killian, you can't let what that _monster_ did to you and to his wife define you.  It _wasn’t_ your fault."

He was barely breathing, searching her eyes for something.  "I..."

" _No_ , Killian," she repeated.  "Whatever you're thinking, it wasn't your fault."

He shook his head helplessly, clearly not believing her.

"This" - she wrapped her hand around his arm and lifted until it was between them and his eyes were locked on the scar - "wasn't your fault.  It's not a price to be paid or a penance.  It was an accident."

He sighed, his gaze moving to hers from the scar that was mostly healed and back.

"You're still healing, Killian, and you have every right to be taking things at your own pace.” Emma reached out and brushed the hair out of his eyes, stepping closer so that she could trap his stump between them.  Her heart rate was loud in her ears and she was sure he could feel it beating against his arm.  “But if the reason you haven't gone back to save Liam is that you think you don't deserve your brother here because of what Gold chose to put you through, then you need to stop thinking like that."

Killian's face crumpled and he pitched forward.  Emma caught him as he wrapped himself around her, his entire body shaking as he buried his face in her neck.  She ran her fingers through his hair, down his back, anywhere she could reach to soothe, to remind him that they were there together to ride out the storm.

Eventually they sank to the floor, the hard tiles unforgiving against Emma’s knees as she continued to hold him close.

“I’m so scared,” he mumbled an eternity later.

She nodded against the back of his head.  “I am, too.  I’ve lost everyone I love, Killian.  I can’t… I can’t lose you, too.  But we don’t have to do anything today, I promise.  We’ll take it slow, all right?”

Killian sniffled and finally moved so that they were both sitting against the cabinets - Emma wrapped in his arms and sitting between his legs.  She watched as he played idly with the ends of her hair, smoothing out the tangles that a day in the library had left behind.  Her fingers ran absently over the end of his wrist, tracing the scar.

 “My love, you don’t have to worry about me,” he mumbled into her hair.  “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s surviving.”

Emma let out a shaky breath and tucked her head under his chin as best she could.  She wanted to kiss him, to make them both forget what they’d been talking about, but she still didn’t know how he felt about what she’d done.

“You’re not mad?” she asked hesitantly when they’d been sitting in the kitchen long enough that she was going to be stiff when she stood up.

“Mad?”  His fingers stilled and he tucked his nose behind her ear.  “About what?”

Emma’s hand tightened around his arms, holding him in place with her grip as much as with where she was sitting.  “About _Liam_ ,” she whispered.

“Oh.”

He didn’t say anything else and Emma was terrified to burst the bubble they’d wrapped themselves in.  Afraid of what he’d say.

“I’m…” Emma jumped, startled when he finally spoke.  “Easy, luv.  I’m not… mad.  I’m just trying to understand.  Did you keep it from me on purpose?”

She nodded reluctantly.  She may have hidden it from him, but she wouldn’t lie to him about it.

He nodded, too.  He’d already known that answer.

“Did you keep it from me to hurt me?”

“No!”  Emma tried to turn around, to look at him and reassure him that hurting him was the last thing on her mind.

But Killian pinned her in place and nodded again, against the side of her face where she could feel it.  He knew the answer to that already, too.

“So why _did_ you keep if from me?”  This time, he sounded genuinely curious.

Emma shrugged.  “I… I don’t really know.  I thought about telling you so many times.  At first, I didn’t know if I was going to be able to convince Clark to let me take on the project since I wasn’t an upperclassman.  And then when he did, I didn’t find anything new or helpful forever.  And after that, when I started to find leads, it was never the right time.  And then you got the machine to work and I thought I’d tell you before you went back, but I still didn’t have anything solid and we were going to try to screw Gold over, so there wasn’t any time then.  And then…” she froze, sights and sounds and smells stopping her words.

Killian tightened his grip.  “And then it all went to bloody hell in a handbasket.”

She shuddered, the memory all too vivid still.

He kissed the shell of her ear, bringing her out of the lab and back to their kitchen.  “I _do_ wish you had told me earlier, luv, I’d have liked to help.  I’ve seen the toll that the research took on you, and I wanted to know why.  But I get it, and I’d probably have done the same thing.  Maybe you can show me what you found soon?”

Emma was finally able to shift in his grip until she was across his lap, her arms looped over his shoulders.  He looked sad, hurt still, and she didn’t want to add to that.  “I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

Killian kissed the tip of her nose.  “I don’t think there’s anything about that day that I’ll ever _like_ , luv.  But if I’m going to save Liam, then I’m going to need to know eventually.”

She nodded sadly.

“But not today, aye?” he asked hopefully.

Emma smiled.  “As you wish.”

Killian ducked down so that he could brush his lips softly over hers.  She closed her eyes as his fingers tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to tilt her head-

“I thought we agreed on nothing I didn’t want to know about in the common areas,” David interrupted, sending both Killian and Emma scrambling to their feet.

“I think that’s a double negative,” Killian snarked back, tugging Emma around to kiss her loudly on the cheek.

David turned red and sputtered his way down the hall, Mary Margaret leaning on the doorframe with a smirk.

“It’s nice to see you smiling again, Killian,” she said gently before following David to their bedroom.

When the door shut behind her, Killian smirked at Emma.  “I guess they’re following the rules.  What say we break some, aye?”

Emma laughed long and hard as he tugged her over to the couch.

* * *

Killian tried.

He tried to force himself to that side of campus, to even walk by the building where the machine that would bring Liam back to him was gathering dust.  His professors and Archie had been more than understanding and accommodating as he recovered and threw himself fully into the academic side of his thesis.

And why wouldn’t they be?  To them, he’d completed his project. He’d proven that time travel was more than a theoretical possibility.  He no longer had any requirements in the lab, so what was it to them if he’d requested a lecture hall nearer to the shuttle stop for the classes he was teaching this semester?  What was it to them if he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his own work ever again?

What was it to them if he couldn’t get over himself long enough to go and save Liam?

As if in protest, the space where his hand should have been erupted in molten agony, and Killian’s thoughts were torn away from crossing the quad trying to test his resolve and hurtled towards finding a quiet place where he could rid himself of the brace and pray for a quick end to the pain.

It _had_ been getting better lately, and Anna had hinted more than once that there might be another reason for the phantom pains than strictly physical at this stage of his recovery.  Killian had stomped out of more than one session at the thought, but there was probably some merit to it now.

Even if he refused to admit it.

The sight of his scarred stump was still uncomfortable, but with Emma’s easy acceptance, his own was coming along slowly.  It was second nature, now, to unbuckle the brace and tug off the sock, pressing his fingers into the skin and muscle to try and remind his brain where his arm ended and imagination began.  He thought, not for the first time, about the strange old professor who’d sent him running after Emma.  When had he lost his hand?  How had he learned to cope?  Where had he gotten such an advanced prosth-

Killian’s eyes fixed on his own prosthetic, looking far less maneuverable than the old man’s had.  He gulped.

_It was worth it.  Things like this are worth the risk.  Don’t forget that._

Killian threw his prosthetic in his bag and raced for the shuttle.  He had to tell Emma.

He found Emma in the apartment, angrily scrubbing the inside of the oven.  He considered backing slowly out of the kitchen, the apartment, the whole building.  She didn’t expect him home for another hour, at least, surely he could-

“I know you’re standing there.”

Killian stepped further into the room, chagrined, and knelt down next to the plethora of cleaning supplies and peering inside the appliance.

It was immaculate.

“Err… Swan?  I don’t think this was that clean when the landlord bought it,” he said softly, carefully.

Emma’s head whipped around and she glared at him.  “What?” she seethed.

“Umm… I said would you like me to help?”  He grinned disarmingly.

She sat back on her haunches and used her forearm to try and wipe the hair out of her eyes.  Killian telegraphed his motions slowly, not entirely sure what had set her off.  When Emma didn’t bat his hand away, he tucked the stray hair back behind her ear.

“What’s got you so vexed, luv?”

He could see it, now.  The telltale redness to her eyes, the puffiness, the watery look.  Something or someone had made her cry.

Killian wanted to fix it.  Whatever it was.

“It’s nothing.  It’s not important,” she tried, reaching down to start throwing all of the supplies back into the bucket.

“Emma.”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything until she had cleaned up and collapsed into a corner of the couch.  The laptop they had cobbled enough money together to share was open on the coffee table.

A video with Gold standing behind a podium was paused on the screen.

Killian’s blood boiled.  His hand felt as though it was being crushed.  His breath caught in his chest.  He slammed the screen down with a bang and turned to Emma.  “Why are you watching that _demon_?”

She shook her head, curling around the throw pillow that was definitely Mary Margaret’s influence on the decor.  “I wasn’t watching _him_.  Not really.  It came up on my newsfeed and I would have passed it right by, if I hadn’t seen _him_.”

Killian shook his head.  He didn’t understand.

“Not _Gold_ ,” she elaborated.  “Or, well, not Gold _Senior_.”

Killian’s brows furrowed and he sat on the end of the couch, opening the laptop again and taking a better look at the screen.

Neal.

He looked different than Killian remembered from their schoolboy days - not just older, but more world-weary, more broken than he had back in England.

 _But then again_ , Killian reminded himself, this version of Neal had never been a Cassidy.  Had never been in Killian’s classes, hiding from his ponce of a father.

 _This_ version of Neal hadn’t had his mother to protect him.

Because of _him_.

“Emma, I-”

“I never thought I’d see him again,” she mumbled, and it was Killian’s turn to whip his head around.

“What?” he asked incredulously.  He _wished_ that they’d never have to lay eyes on that bloody crocodile again, but he was rich and famous and all the things that made Killian seethe.  It was a miracle that the bastard hadn’t graced their presence since they’d returned.  Killian had expected to be strapped over a barrel, beholden to him to return to the past again and again until his gilded life was perfect.  Thinking they’d never have to see Gold again wasn’t-

“Neal,” she whispered.

Killian was lost.  “You know Neal?”

Emma looked confused.  “You _know_ the story.”

It was like a switch was flipped in his head.  All of a sudden, he could remember the night that Emma had practically crawled into his lap and sobbed into his chest, a hiccuping mess as she told him about the first boy who had broken her heart, who had left her pregnant and in juvenile hall.  How, even though she’d told the court about Neal’s crimes, his daddy had swooped in and protected him from the charges - the poor, unfortunate street urchin who was just looking to defame his son because of his status.  How she’d given the child up - she refused to call him her _son_ \- and hoped for the best for him.  How, if she had been just a few months older, they might have tried her as an adult and not sealed her records, which would have blown her college career right out of the water.

How she didn’t deserve to be with someone as wholesome as Killian because of who _she_ was.  How he had shown her, over and over, that _he_ was the one who didn’t deserve _her_.

Killian remembered, but he knew he had never experienced it.

Just one more thing that Gold’s trip to the past had affected.  One more person’s history he’d toyed with.

What would stopping Liam’s murder cause?  What spiraling effect would Killian cause by saving his brother’s life?

Killian clenched his eyes shut against the most obvious change that would happen.  He’d have to find a way to keep _her_ in his new future.

“I’m sorry, luv.  You’re right.  Of course I know the story, I just hadn’t made the connection before.  I didn’t realize that the rat who abandoned you was spawned by the crocodile.”

Emma seemed to accept that, clearly not having the dual set of memories that he did.  “How do _you_ know him?”

Killian shook his head.  How was he supposed to explain this?  

“I… I suppose I don’t,” he began, sitting back on the couch and softening when she crawled into his lap.  “Not in this timeline anyway.  You remember how I told you what happened in the past.  With Gold and… and his wife?”

 _Milah_ , his brain helpfully made him face her name.

Emma nodded, toying with his sleeve until he relaxed enough to let her massage his stump.

“Before all that changed, she’d gotten away from _him_.  She took Neal to England, where her parents lived, and raised him there.”

She looked up at him, smiling sadly.  “Near you and Liam?”

He grimaced.  “Aye, the Cassidys lived just down the street from us.  We were friends growing up.  I never… I never knew why they had moved there, and Neal was too young to remember.”

Emma tucked her head under his chin.  “And so he never convinced me to run away?  He never… left me behind?”

Killian hugged her tight to his chest, the choked tone breaking his heart.  “No, luv.  Up until I went into that bloody machine, he was still in England.  I’m sorry.”

Emma curled into his embrace, and he just held her.  The paused image was still on the screen, taunting him - taunting _them_ \- but he couldn’t do anything about it.

The longer he looked, the more he _saw_ Neal.  The young man standing just behind his father was barely recognizable as the mischievous boy he’d known.  There was no spark in his eye, no look of boyish defiance that caused the two of them all sorts of trouble in school.  Now, all Killian could see was broken acceptance - as if Neal knew that his life could have been different.  If only his mother hadn’t been senselessly murdered, her killer never found.

Gold was right, his alibi for that evening was airtight, the grief he’d shown to the public sincere, the shock all too real.  There was no way to connect past-him with the murder since it likely hadn’t been a thought in his head until _after_ Milah had left.  There had been suspects, of course, the license found at the scene leading to a witch hunt after a woman who’d ultimately had an alibi of his own. It had ruined Regina Mills anyway, which Killian was sure had been Gold’s only goal.   _This_ version of Gold, however, the one who had desperately held what remained of his family together after his wife’s unexplained murder, had no motive for killing her.

Killian had ruined everything.

“I…” his voice cracked as his heart began to shatter.  He couldn’t use the machine again.  He couldn’t go back in time and obliterate someone else’s story, wreck someone else’s future.  There were just too many things that could go wrong, never mind what might happen to _him_ on another trip.  He already wasn’t whole, couldn’t be whole.  He couldn’t even hold Emma with both hands, and the memory of what it _had_ felt like was a stark reminder of what he’d lost already.

“Killian?”  Both her hands were squeezing gently at his arm, reminding him of where he was.

“I don’t think I’m going to go back again,” he whispered, barely able to choke out his decision.

Emma sat up straight, her eyes flashing.  “What?” she seethed.

Killian looked away, unable to stomach what he saw in her gaze.  Unable to stomach the decision he was making.  Liam was alternating between screaming in his head and agreeing softly while reminding Killian that he would be there for him no matter what.  Liam was _gone_ and anything his voice tried to appease Killian with sounded like nonsense.  Liam was gone.  For good, now.  He felt like his brother was being murdered all over again, like he was watching Liam bleed out in his arms knowing that - this time - it was Killian himself who was holding the weapon.

“It’s too risky to try it again,” he mumbled softly, still looking anywhere but at Emma despite her attempts to force him to look at her.  If he did, he’d crumble.  “There’s so much that can go wrong, so many different ways that this could blow up in all of our faces.  I… I can’t… I…”

He broke off, a sob caught in his throat.  His hand was on fire, not even Emma’s gentle ministrations enough to dampen the flames burning brightly there.  For once, he welcomed the pain, pulling his arm away from her and hiding it over the back of the sofa where she couldn’t reach.

_I’m sorry, Liam.  Bloody hell, I’m sorry._

He didn’t know when Emma had moved, when she’d latched onto him like a koala with her fingers in his hair and the other hand running up and down his back.  Her tears soaked his shirt, his were saturating her hair.

He’d failed.  

He’d failed so utterly and miserably that it felt as though the whole world was mocking him.  Never in his life had Killian fallen short of his goals, never in his life had he felt so defeated.

Never in his life had he felt so lost.

_Save me, little brother.  Please?_


	14. Of War and of Peace

 

**_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/167841636792/liams-ghost-still-skulked-in-the-corner-of-his)!_**

* * *

* * *

The dew on the grass was cold as it seeped into Killian's jeans.  He barely noticed.  Instead, he was transfixed by the way the fresh dirt over Liam's grave seemed to taunt him - the drab color silencing the numbers dancing around his head and refusing to give him an escape.  Liam was dead.  Gone.  Lost to the world.  And he didn't know what to do about it.  His father hadn't been home since the funeral, leaving Killian to scavenge for what meals he could find and finally resorting to rifling through his father's drawers looking for money.  He'd barely found enough for a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter, but it was enough to keep his stomach from growling.

He missed Liam.

The warmth of his brother's jacket wasn't enough to ward off the chill that was his constant companion now.  Killian burrowed down into the leather anyway, hoping that the fading scent that he associated with his brother would calm him down.  Tears leaked down his cheeks, anyway, allowing the cold wind to sting his face.  He relished the pain, thinking again about how Liam wouldn't be in the ground below him if Killian hadn't insisted on going to Ireland for that stupid lecture.  The granite behind him, freshly chiseled with his brother's name and the important dates, seemed to bite at his back.

 _This is your fault_ , his father's constant recriminations echoed in his ears, drowning out what he assumed his brother would have had to say about _that_.

God, he just wanted his brother back.

 _I'm right here waiting, little brother_ , Liam's voice startled Killian to his feet, whirling around wildly to find the source - looking around stupidly for Liam to jump out from behind a headstone, laughing.  His brother loved to play jokes on him, to scare the daylights out of him.  It would be just like him to sneak up on Killian and then laugh heartily at the perturbed look Killian never could quite manage to hide.

No one was there.

Killian sat down heavily, biting his lip to try and stop the sob from working its way out of his lungs.  He didn't deserve to cry.  He didn't deserve Liam back.  Not when it was his fault that his brother was dead in the first place.

But Liam didn't deserve to be dead, either, so Killian wasn't going to stop trying to save him until he could go back in time and stop his brother from going anywhere _near_ that cursed street in that cursed country.

He'd save Liam, come Hell or high water.

Liam's spectre stood in front of him, hands on his hips and shaking his head, clearly disappointed.

_But you're not going to do that now, are you little brother?_

Killian curled up against the onslaught of Liam's words, his head buried in his knees and his arms wrapped tightly around himself to ward off the shaking.

_I'm sorry, Liam.  My God, am I sorry.  Please forgive me.  Please?_

* * *

The nightmares returned with a vengeance.  Emma spent more time waking Killian up from his thrashing than she did sleeping, watching helplessly when he threw himself out of bed and stalked down to the living room to pace angrily until he was too tired to do anything more than collapse on the couch.  Some nights she followed him, curling up on the cushions and waiting until he walked himself out.  But other nights, when it took forever to wake him up and she heard him crying for his brother, begging Liam to forgive him, those nights she only made it as far as the chair in their room before she sank down and cried silently, helplessly, into her knees.

Those were the nights when she felt the sharp sting of failure raking across her shoulders.

Killian hadn’t backed down on his decision and Emma didn’t know what to do.  If she could have made the machine work, she’d have gone back herself, but he needed to show her where he’d hidden the calculations.  David had offered whatever help he could, making sure that there was enough material for the keys that catalyzed the reactions, but he didn’t understand the math in Killian’s head either.

They were in a holding pattern, and it was killing Emma to watch Killian spiral.

Currently, he was sitting on the side of their bed - shoulders heaving, muscles bunched and spasmed, head bowed - and refusing to look at her.

“Killian,” she began, not really knowing how to get through to him.

He shook his head.  “I’m sorry, luv, I… I don’t mean to keep waking you.”

The catch in his voice stabbed through her, and she scrambled to untangle herself from the blankets. He barely had time to move before Emma wrapped herself around his back, hugging him from behind.

“Stay.  Please?” she practically begged, burying her nose in his neck and trying to soothe him with soft touches.  Her fingers scratched through the hair on his chest and she could feel the way he shivered under her ministrations.

He moved to get up again, and Emma whined in protest.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.  “I’m just not very good company at the moment.”

“I don’t care,” she hissed in his ear.  “I don’t care if you’re good company or bad company or no company at all.  I just want you here, in our bed, where I can hold you.”

Emma counted it as a win when his head tilted just enough so that he could look at her out of the corner of his eye.  He was looking at her as though she were a science experiment that had concluded with wildly outlandish results.  

“I love you, Killian.  That doesn’t change because you’re having a tough time right now.”  She wasn’t good with words, never had been, but she was sure as hell going to try explaining it to him.  “I love you now, and I loved you yesterday, and if you never do another science-y thing in your life, I’m still going to love you.  A few nightmares aren’t going to scare me off.”

His breath hitched a little, and she took advantage, tugging backwards until he relented and swung his legs back up under the covers.  His head resting on her collarbone, tucked securely under her chin, he slowly began to relax.

“I was thinking we could go to the beach tomorrow evening?” she whispered into the dark.  “We haven’t been in awhile.”

She grinned into his hair when he nodded.  “Aye, luv, as you wish.”

Killian shifted until he was wrapped around her, clutching her tightly and burying his nose in her neck.  Emma continued to card her fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and whispering soft nonsense into the dark as his muscles began to lose their tension and his breathing seemed to even out.

His fingers gripped her shirt from time to time, as if reassuring himself that she was still there, even in his sleep.

“Shh, Killian,” she soothed, brushing her lips over his forehead.  “Rest now, just sleep.”

When his soft snores reached her ears, Emma finally let herself drop back into slumber.

* * *

Killian sat in a corner of the library, staring at the file folder on the desktop that contained all the notes from his time travel thesis.   _Test Coordinates_ was the first file he deleted, not wanting the reminder of what that trip had cost the world.  His left hand, or rather the ghost of it, twinged sharply at the reminder, but he wouldn't be swayed.  He let the mouse hover over _Ireland Trip Coordinates_ , seemingly unable to right click and delete the calculations he had password protected and hidden on the flash drive.  He wasn't going back, he _couldn’t_ go back, so why couldn't he just delete the calculations he'd spent months slaving over in order to get them just right?

 _Liam_ , he knew.

His brother's voice was still echoing in his head, begging him to save him, begging him to just be happy and move on.  Berating him for his cowardice, berating him for thinking about taking the risk.

Killian pulled at his hair, tugging on the roots until the pain replaced the cacophony in his head.

He'd failed.

He hadn't saved his brother.

He was putting Emma's health at risk by waking her at all hours.

He'd failed.

Just like his father always predicted.  Maybe Brennan was right.  Maybe this had been a fool's errand.  Killian was already well aware of his shortcomings and knew that Liam would have... should have been the Jones boy to live.  This just confirmed all that.  One more semester and Killian would be done with his Masters' degree, and then what?  He had never had a plan beyond find Liam and save Liam.  He had always assumed that once the past was changed, the future would fall into place for him, so why bother planning for one?

But now that he wasn't going to change the past, how was he supposed to move on?  What was he supposed to do now?

The only thing he knew how to do was wallow in what he had lost.  Well, that and love Emma.  He knew that _that_ wouldn't change as long as she wanted him.  Despite his best efforts to push her away lately, Killian was continually surprised by how stalwartly she stood by him.

And all he could repay her with were the constant nightmares and surly moods.

God, he didn't deserve her.

Killian knew that as assuredly as he knew that he'd never see Liam again.  Not now.  Not when he couldn't fight for what he wanted.

He deserved all of this and more.

Killian banged his head against the wall behind him, closing his eyes against the sting of tears as his brother's voice echoed in his head. _A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets_.  He had grown up idolizing his older brother, putting him on a pedestal so high that no one could ever measure up.  And now, because of his own cowardice, he would never get the chance to thank Liam for all he'd done for him.

Killian slammed his head back against the wall again, eyes blurring as he considered the file once more.  

_It’s all right, little brother.  I understand._

Killian shook his head.  Liam _would_ understand, that was the worst part about it. Liam had always looked out for him, growing up far too quickly in a world where Brennan didn’t  always understand his youngest son.  It had always been the Jones brothers against the world - right up until Liam had bled out on a dirty street while Killian watched helplessly.  He should be able to get over his fear and do this.  For Liam.  For himself.

_You’ll always be my little brother, Killian.  Even when you’re all grown up and a doctor and flying through time to save the world._

Liam had always believed in him, even when no one else would.  And Killian had no real desire to save the world.  He had only wanted to save _his_ world - and he couldn’t even bring himself to do that, terrified of what the cost would be for Liam’s life.

He moved to whack his head again, the pain grounding him and keeping the numbers scattered, but there was no satisfying _thunk_ this time.  Rather, his head impacted with something hard and soft all at once.

His eyes shot open in confused shock, locking immediately on Emma’s concerned gaze.

“Hey, there,” she whispered, fingers tangling in his hair.  “You owe me a date, remember?”

The beach.

He’d forgotten.

Killian hovered over the red X in the corner for only a moment before he closed out the folder and shut the laptop and stowed it in the compartment of his bag.  “I’m sorry, luv, I got tied up,” he said as his head rolled further into her touch, soaking up the comfort she offered before he stood and offered her his arm.  He laughed when she shouldered his backpack, raising an eyebrow at her when she scoffed.

“You don’t always get to be the knight in shining armor, Jones,” Emma chided without letting him take the bag back.

He wasn’t entirely sure how to tell her that _she’d_ been _his_ knight in shining armor for as long as he’d known her - and especially in the past few months.  He’d been a right git since _it_ had happened, but it was like he couldn’t stop.

And it was like how he acted didn’t change anything for her.

Killian was startled out of his thoughts by a tug on his prosthetic.  The brace slid a little along his arm, but held snug against Emma’s pull.  He followed her mutely, trying to turn his mind away from his brother’s ghost and his own disappointed thoughts so that he could focus solely on _her_.

On everything good that was left in his life.

The sun was just setting behind them when Killian’s toes sunk into the cold sand.  He closed his eyes for a moment, soaking in the warmth at his back and the sounds of the sea.  He didn’t react at all when Emma rolled up his sleeve, unbuckling the brace and baring the skin on his forearm.  Her touch was light as her fingers brushed over the scar, the stimulation almost tickling after the long day of pressure and abrading movements.

“Don’t want to get sand inside the brace,” she whispered in his ear, and it sent a shiver through him that was at odds with the innocuous statement.  Killian turned to watch her zipping up the backpack, just able to see the tip of his prosthetic nestled inside.  Emma stuck one hand in her pocket and looped the other one around his stump, tugging him to the surf.

“Emma,” he warned, looking at the water hesitantly. “It’s going to be cold.”

She smirked.  “What’s the matter, Jones?  Can’t handle it?”

He grimaced as she stepped back into the waves, imagining the chill that was going to overtake him momentarily.  Usually, it was Emma who shied away from the cold, preferring to huddle together for warmth, her toes freezing the skin on his calves until he was sure one of them had frostbite.

Emma grinned at him, as if she could read his every thought. She stepped back again, her fingers now just barely in his grasp. He whined in protest, biting his lip as he automatically stepped into the tiny waves frothing around their feet to follow her.  He would _always_ follow her.

But _damn_ , it was cold.

Killian danced in the surf, trying to lessen the amount of time he was actually stepping in the water.  And then he heard it.

Emma giggling.

It was a sweet sound, one that had been all too lacking in recent memory, and one he wanted to hear more of.  He continued to do a little jig, his feet kicking up just enough droplets of water to make her squeal, the giggles turning into all-out laughter.  She was red in the face with tears streaming down her cheeks, the glow of the sunset reflecting in her hair.

She was, by far, the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on.

Killian stilled, suddenly, caught up in the moment of watching her glee.  It took Emma a few minutes to realize he’d stopped.  Before the grin could slip from her features, he tugged her into his chest, wrapping his left arm around her back to trap her in his embrace.  His fingers came up to skim over the apple of her cheek, his forehead dropping against hers.

“I love you,” he whispered, his nose snug against her own.  “So damn much.”

Emma leaned forwards, stepping impossibly closer to his space, and brushed her lips against his own.  She left one kiss, then two, then three, against his lips, tilting her head to change the angle.

Killian lost himself in her, then, surrendering all of the stress and the uncertainty and the failure that had plagued him for weeks.  There was only him and her and the waves beneath their feet.  If it wasn’t so cold, he’d have laid her down in the surf and spent hours loving her.  As it was, his feet were beginning to go numb and he could feel Emma’s shivers as she continued to explore how they fit together.

Regretfully, Killian pulled back, lifting Emma up out of the surf until she wrapped her legs around his hips and carrying her to the boulders they’d long ago claimed as their own.  He pulled the blanket from his bag - proof that at one point, he’d remembered they were supposed to meet here this evening - and tucked it around them both.  Beneath the soft fabric, he could feel Emma searching for his arm, digging her fingers into the sore muscles and massaging the stump gently.

He closed his eyes, practically purring at her ministrations.

“I love you,” she whispered, some time later, as if she were telling him the time of day.  There was no change in what she was doing, nothing to suggest that the words rocked him to his very core every time she uttered them.

But they did, and oh did he want to deserve them.  Deserve _her_.

“And I love you,” Killian finally replied, boneless under her care with his eyes half-closed.

Her fingers kept moving under the blanket, kneading his arm tirelessly.  He was so focused on the patterns she was making that he almost missed what she told him next.

“I found him.”

He cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t open his eyes.  “Hmm?  Who?” he managed.

Emma’s fingers stilled and he grumbled in protest.

“The man who killed your brother.”

It felt as though all the oxygen in the world had escaped the atmosphere.  Killian’s entire body spasmed, caught up in the disbelief.

“Killian?” she asked worriedly, but he couldn’t answer.

Emma sat up, taking the blanket with her and making him shiver uncontrollably.

“Killian?” she tried again, her fingers tracing his cheek, his nose, his chin.  

He shuddered under her touch, trying to drown out the voices and the memories cluttering his head.  He was scaring Emma.  He needed to focus.  He needed to breathe.  He needed to…

_You can save me, little brother.  You know how, now._

But he _couldn’t_.  He would lose Emma if he did.  He would lose everything he had fought to call his over the past few years.  He would lose whatever the machine took as payment for his meddling, and Killian wasn’t sure he could survive that pain again.  Not knowing how much he’d have to go through.

But wasn’t it worth it?  Wasn’t saving Liam worth it?

_And I’m sure you’ll see him again, young man.  But you don’t want to be old and decrepit like me by the time you do, do you?_

Killian remembered the old professor, stooped over with age but smiling.  He remembered the prosthetic hand, and how comfortable the man… _he_ seemed with it.  He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t seen it then and there - the grin the same one he’d seen in the mirror, the assurance that Killian would see Liam again, the snark as he steered himself back to Emma.

In another timeline, had he not gone after her?  What had _that_ cost him?  If he were to leave Liam in the past now, would this current version of him use the machine in the twilight of his life to go back and change things when he had nothing left to lose?

Could he live with that kind of regret?

“It was me,” he breathed out, and almost missed the look of shocked alarm on Emma’s face.

Almost, but not quite.

“What?  No.  No, it wasn’t.  Killian, what are you _talking_ about?  It wasn’t _you_ , that wasn’t at all what I was trying to-”

“No!” he cut her off.  “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, luv, my mind was wandering.”  His eyes focused on the worried gaze inches from his own.  God, she was beautiful.

Emma cocked her head to the side, her fingers tangled in his hair - and when had she moved? - looking at him as though he were broken.

Maybe he was.

“Did I ever tell you about the professor who convinced me to fight for you?”

Emma shook her head.

By the time he finished telling her the story, her eyes were wet and she was cuddled in his lap.

“I’m glad you found… find… found the courage to come back to save us,” she whispered into the darkness.

He took a deep breath, pulling Emma closer to his chest and burying his nose in her hair.  “I’d be lost without you, my love.”

Emma’s lips ghosted over the skin at his throat, soft butterfly kisses left there.  “You need to forgive yourself, Killian.  For everything that happened.  None of it’s your fault.”

He grimaced.  “I watched him murder her, and I couldn’t do anything.  It was like I was right back in the streets of Ireland, begging Liam not to leave me and knowing that nothing I did mattered.  That I burn everything I touch.  That for all I wanted to do to change the world, I’m just constantly making it worse.”

“You’re _not_ ,” she hissed, jabbing him in the chest hard enough that he winced.  “I don’t _ever_ want to hear you say that again.”

Killian just shook his head sadly.  “I wish I could believe that, luv, but it’s just not true.”

Emma startled him when she jerked away, sliding down the boulder and stalking across the sand.  It only took him a beat to chase after her, sprinting down the beach and wrapping her in his arms.  She fought against him for a minute, and he was terrified she was going to pull away from him.  To _leave_ him.

But just as suddenly as she’d left, Emma turned in his embrace and hugged him.  Hard.

“I love you,” she whispered fiercely.  “I love you, but you infuriate me sometimes.  Everything you’ve worked for is right in your grasp, all you have to do is reach out and take it.    And I get it.  I _do_.  It’s terrifying for _me_ to think of you in that machine again, so I can’t even imagine what it’s like for _you._ But you _know_ as well as I do that it was an accident.  One of the numbers was transposed when you input the dialing sequence on your way home to me.  You can _fix it_.  You can save Liam, you can fix all of this, but you just _won’t_ , and it’s killing me to watch you not take it.  You can have _everything_ you’ve worked for if you just-”

“I’ll lose _you_!” he shouted, cutting off her tirade.

Emma looked up at him them, her chest heaving and her eyes flashing.

Killian shook his head, tremors racing along his skin at just the thought of it.  “I’ll lose you,” he repeated softly, crushing her against his chest.

“You’d,” she sounded muffled, and she pulled back just far enough to try again. “You’d give up your brother for me?”

He nodded, holding her gaze quietly for a moment.

“Aye,” he whispered.

Emma looked as though he’d simultaneously pulled the moon from the heavens to lay at her feet and also had transformed into some kind of magical creature she’d never seen before.  He arched his neck so that his nose brushed hers, only a whisper of distance between their lips.  Killian was content to stand there, breathing in the scent of her, for hours, but Emma had other ideas.

She stood on her tiptoes, putting them at eye level with each other, and wrapped her arms around his neck.  Still breathing in his air, she leaned forward imperceptibly so that the point of her nose indented his cheek.  The taste of her on his tongue was a heady feeling, and Killian never wanted to forget what _this_ was like.  The battle for dominance, the give and take as they each explored, the new sensation every time they kissed.

The sun was long set by the time they broke apart, shivering a little in the night air.

“Take me home, Killian,” she whispered into the dark.

As if he could deny her anything.

Things seemed to settle down after that.  Killian found that he could walk by, and then into, the science buildings, eventually managing to work up the courage to settle into his old lab and take solace in the numbers again.  Archie had him mentoring some of the freshmen in the lab, and it was calming to get back to the basics without anything looming over him.  Liam’s ghost still skulked in the corner of his mind, and the nightmares remained - though he no longer fled from Emma’s embrace upon waking - but he was learning to accept it.

Until the day everything changed.

The apartment was eerily quiet when Killian got home from the library, the only light coming from down the hallway.  Emma should have been home hours before him, and it was David’s turn to pick up dinner from Granny’s.   

By rights, they should have been clustered around the kitchen table causing a ruckus that their crotchety old neighbor would call the landlord about.

Instead, the silence was so loud it grated on Killian’s ears.  He called out quietly, moving by rote towards the light.  Past the door to the bathroom and past his and Emma’s room, he reached for his cell phone, dialing Emma without thought.

No one answered.

He was starting to have a bad feeling about this.  His hand began to twinge, the space at the end of his wrist cramping uncomfortably.  Killian picked up his pace, finally turning the corner into the only illuminated room in the apartment.

“Where is everyone?”

Mary Margaret just about jumped out of her skin, her hand coming up to clutch at her chest.  “For the love of… Killian!  You scared me.  I didn’t think you all would be home for hours yet.”

_What?_

He must have made some kind of noise because she took three steps towards him before her face went red and she started sputtering.

Killian’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“Mary Margaret… what’s going on?”

She looked stricken, and Killian had to listen to her vacillate while he kept rein on his temper.  He pushed his glasses up on his nose and glared through them until she finally sighed heavily.

“David and Emma are using the machine to-”

Killian didn’t hear another word as he raced out of the building.

The shuttle wasn’t fast enough, the students milling about campus wouldn’t get out of his way, the key to the lab wouldn’t turn the lock.

_No! No. No, no, no. Nononono._

He didn’t have to wonder what David and Emma were doing.  He only wondered why David was letting her go through with it.

The key finally turned in the lock and Killian almost tripped over his own feet as he stumbled in the room.

“Stop!” he cried, his pulse pounding in his ears as Emma locked her gaze with his from inside the machine.  His breath came in short spurts, his fingers trembled as he reached out to her from across the room - as if he could physically hold her here, in this place and time - if only he could reach her.

“Killian?” she questioned, stepping out of the machine and making Killian feel weak with relief.

He shook his head helplessly as he lunged towards her, words failing him as his fears were waylaid and reality stepped in.  She was here, she was safe, she was whole.

He hadn’t lost her.

When he reached Emma, Killian crushed her to his chest, burying his nose in her hair and breathing in the scent of her.  “You’re here.  You’re still here,” he kept muttering into her skin.

She sighed heavily.  “You weren’t supposed to be here,” she whispered back, her fingers tangled tightly in his shirt.

“Mary Margaret, I presume,” David spoke up from the computer.

Killian just nodded.

Emma cursed under her breath, then pulled back from his embrace.

Killian kept his eyes on her, not letting her fully out of his grasp.  “How do you even know when to go?  The calculations…”

She shrugged.  “I stole them from your backpack when we went to the beach.”

He closed his eyes in exasperation.  “I don’t want you to go.”

“I can’t be the reason you lose your brother,” she muttered sadly, looking at their feet.  “I _won’t_.”

“Emma…” his voice broke.  “I don’t want to pay this price.  You have to let this go.”

She just shook her head, glaring at him now.  “I know you’re scared.  Of what the cost will be, of what will happen to you and to _us_ if you go back for him.  But I’m scared, too.  I can’t spend the rest of our lives knowing that you gave up Liam for me.  I can’t have you look at me thirty or forty or _fifty_ years down the road and regret not going back for him.  Not when you _can_ save him.”

He shook his head again, his hand burning fiercely, even as his brain hopefully parroted, _thirty or forty or fifty_ years _down the road._

“Killian, I _know_ you can do it.  I _know_ it will work this time.”  She was begging him to believe her, pleading with her eyes to just trust her.

He couldn’t go back.  He couldn’t refuse her.  He couldn’t take the risk.  He couldn’t let her down.

“I can’t,” he choked out, the words tearing at him like glass in his throat.  “Emma, please… please don’t make me do this.  I don’t want this.  I just want to go home.  Please?  Please, can we just go home?  Both of us?”

Emma hugged him tightly again, and Killian breathed out through the shaking.  They swayed back and forth, almost like dancing, and he began to relax.  She was here, she was safe, she was whole.

She understood.

He didn’t notice the way she turned them slowly around, backing them closer to the machine.  He didn’t notice how carefully she was watching behind them, not paying any attention to _him_ but rather to _it._

He didn’t notice where she was leading him when she crushed her lips against his, all passion and dominance and want.

He didn’t notice until she’d shoved him inside and locked the door.

“NO!” he shouted, alternating between pounding on the door and trying to unlock the hatch.  “Emma!  Let me out!”

“I can’t,” she hollered back, and he heard her mumbling something that the metal muffled.  Then, “You have to do this, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

Killian yanked on the wheel, fighting to get out.  “No, Emma, please!”

“Save your brother, Killian.  Save Liam and then find me.  I’ll be waiting for you.”

Killian slumped down in the seat, tears streaming down his face.  “Please, luv,” he begged, “please just let me out.  This should be my choice, Emma,   _my_ choice who my future is with, what my future is.   _Please_ …”

He stared at the hatch, willing it to open, willing her not to do this to him.  To _them_.

“I’m sorry,” he heard through the heavy, metal door.

Startled, Killian turned towards the computer as he heard the machine start to spin up.  Emma or David must have triggered it remotely.  If he didn’t turn the key now, the reaction would mutate wildly out of control and he, Emma, and David would all be lost in the vestiges of time.  As if someone were pulling his puppet strings, Killian buckled himself into the harness, reaching for the key and turning it until the click echoed through the cockpit.  For better or worse now, he was on his way back to Ireland to save his brother and to change the course of all of their histories.  All of their futures.

The familiar and terrifying tug in his stomach sought to rearrange his very atoms as he hurtled back through time, and Killian shut his eyes against the pain, both physical and emotional.  He held onto the image of Emma, sunning herself on the rocks at the beach while the sun set behind her.

God, he’d never forgive himself if he forgot her.

“I love you, my Swan.  I will find you.  I will _always_ find you.”


	15. And a Time to Every Purpose

**_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/168052180542/he-heard-the-loud-retort-of-the-weapon-spinning)!_**

* * *

* * *

Killian wasn’t sure how long he sat at the controls, staring brokenly at the coordinates flashing on the screen.  He hurt all over from the journey, but didn’t seem to be missing any important bits, so he supposed Emma had been right about that, after all.  The harness dug into his chest painfully, highlighting the ache he felt at Emma’s betrayal.  He was sorely tempted to find where she’d stashed the second key, input the coordinates for home, and never look back.

But the key fell out of its slot and a note fluttered down to his lap after it.

 _Believe in yourself, Killian, and in_ us _.  I do._

_Love, Emma_

He shut his eyes tightly.  It was morning in Ireland, just hours before his brother would be shot down in the street and Killian’s life would be irreparably changed.  He could fix it.  He could save Liam.  And then he’d spend the rest of his life trying to find Emma again.  He tucked the note in his pocket as a reminder of what he was working to save.

Killian finally unbuckled himself, struggling with the clasp at his chest, and unsealed the hatch.  Bright sunlight assaulted his eyes, making him blink rapidly in the early morning light.  He’d just left a stormy evening in Maine, so it was a bit of a shock to his system.

It was cold.  He’d forgotten how cold it was that morning - he’d spent half the day huddled in Liam’s jacket as they’d wandered around the city.  It was only when they’d gone back to the dingy motel room to change for the lecture that he’d given it back.

And now it was on his shoulders again, worn with age and no longer smelling like his brother, but a comfort all the same.

He locked the machine and threw a camouflage net over it as best he could.  With a determined set to his shoulders, Killian stalked towards the city.  He’d only taken a few steps when everything hit him suddenly - he had no idea how to keep his stubborn as Hell older brother from walking down that street and getting himself killed.

The trek into civilization tested Killian’s patience as he argued with himself over what he was going to do and how loudly he was going to yell at Swan when he found her again.  Granted, that version of his Emma would no longer exist and the version he _would_ find didn’t deserve his anger, but that didn’t seem to matter at the moment.  He was angry and he was chagrined and he wasn’t going to just let that lie.

Right after he kissed the daylights out of her…

And likely got smacked for his troubles if she had no idea who he was.

Despite his current mood, Killian found himself smirking at his future self’s pain.  His Emma was a spitfire and she’d make him pay for it.

Killian's hands fell naturally to his pockets as he trudged away from the machine.  His fingers closed protectively around the catalyst key, clutching his only lifeline back to the present - he refused to even _think_ the phrase "Back to the Future" - as he walked.  He didn't really pay attention, at first, to what else cluttered his pocket.  Emma was constantly complaining that for how neat he was everywhere else, his pockets were always a mess of detritus when it came time for laundry day.

And then the crinkle of paper caught his attention.  He fished around for a moment, not remembering stashing any of his class notes in his pocket, and pulled out a crumpled mess of printer paper.  Smoothing it out against his leg, Killian saw that it was a black and white photo of a young man - perhaps a few years younger than he and Emma - and a name scrawled in Emma's familiar penmanship.

_Malcolm Pan._

And a note underneath the name in someone else's writing.

_Best guess, initiation ??gang or IRA?? payment of Jones' debt._

At least now he knew who he was looking for.

And then he hit the city limits.

The sights, the sounds, the smells, they all bowled over him and sent him stumbling to the nearest wall for support.  He’d left Ireland behind the day Liam had been killed and he’d never been back.  Until today.

Which, he supposed, meant that he _still_ hadn’t been back to Ireland since Liam’s death.  Time travel made his brain hurt sometimes.

Killian stalked through the streets of the city, glaring at everyone he passed and retracing his steps until he knew the path from the motel to where Liam had taken his last breaths in Killian’s arms by heart.  Every rock, every piece of trash, even the crack in the sidewalk he’d tripped over that day.

He knew every inch of where they would walk on the path towards Liam’s death, not knowing it was their last minutes together.

But it wouldn’t be.  Not if he could help it.

He had a face, a name, a target to hunt.  Part of Killian wished that he hadn’t spent so much time in his room and then in a lab as he’d grown.  That he knew people well enough to understand where and why this Malcolm Pan would be coming after his brother.

He didn’t, and what he _did_ know would have to be enough - what Emma had found for him would have to be enough.

Killian stalked the street again, his eyes peeled for the boy, his brother, or himself.  He had no idea what to do when he found any of them, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

There.

The boy, Malcolm, came around the corner looking around shiftily as he fiddled with the hem of his jumper.  Killian would bet his key to the machine that there was a gun tucked into the boy’s waistband.

What the _hell_ was he going to do?  Walk up to the boy dead out and ask him nicely to please not shoot his brother?  Not only would the boy _still_ kill Liam, Killian would likely end up with a bullet of his own for the trouble.

Should he rush Malcolm and hope that the sight of someone charging him would scare him off?  No, that wouldn’t end any better.

Call the police?  They likely wouldn’t get there in time.  And what would he even tell them?  The boy hadn’t _done_ anything yet.

Try to find Liam and stop him?  Killian laughed out loud.  Liam was far more stubborn than Killian and Emma combined - _especially_ when it came to his little brother.  No, trying to talk Liam out of bringing the younger version of himself to the lecture wouldn’t accomplish _anything_.

So what could he do?

Maybe if Emma were here, she would know how to…

 _No!_ he chastised himself.  If there was one thing Killian knew for certain, it was that he absolutely didn’t want Emma anywhere near the gun-toting maniac across the street from him.  If she were to get hurt… Killian couldn’t even imagine it, his heart already clutching in terror at the thought.  He looked wildly around, as if thinking about it would make her magically appear.

She didn’t.

But _Liam_ did.

Killian was out of time.

Instinct drove Killian towards the familiar mop of curly brown hair, his brother looking startlingly young now that Killian was older than Liam.  He gave a moment’s glance back towards Malcolm, the glint of metal shining in the sun tearing the first shout from Killian’s throat.

“Look out!” he screamed, his voice shrill as it echoed down the street.

Liam looked up - alarm crossing his features - but he didn’t run, only glanced back over his shoulder and froze.

Killian knew exactly who Liam was looking for.  But trying to protect the younger Killian wasn’t going to keep Liam from getting killed - noble though the sacrifice may be.

“Liam!  Run!” he tried again.

Liam turned slowly to face him, shock written plainly across his features.

But he didn’t run.

“Gun!” Killian shouted, pointing across the street to where an equally shocked Pan was aiming at Liam.

“Malcolm Pan!” Killian screamed, abandoning the thought of getting Liam to safety and directing his murderer’s attention to himself, Killian took off sprinting across the street.

**_BANG! BANG! BANG!_ **

He heard the loud retort of the weapon, spinning mid-stride to see if Malcolm had hit Liam or if the idiot had finally realized that Killian was trying to save his bloody life.

The idiot in question was running _towards_ Killian and Malcolm.

“What the _bloody hell_ are you…” Killian trailed off as he stumbled.  Liam was shouting something, but the buzzing in Killian’s ears drowned it out.   _When did it get so cold?_ he wondered, a moment before the hollow **_thunk_** of his knees hitting the pavement reverberated through him.

Liam caught him as he fell, the warmth of his brother’s embrace such a foreign comfort after all these years that it shocked Killian out of his daze.  He automatically tried to curl into his brother - Liam was here, everything would be all right now.

Only it wouldn’t be all right.  Because Liam was still in danger.

“Get your bloody arse out of… argh!” Killian’s tirade dissolved into an agonized howl as Liam pushed down on his stomach - hard.

Fire.  Burning pain worse than when the machine had taken his hand erupted from his abdomen and raced outwards until it consumed him.  His body started to shiver uncontrollably and a tiny whimper pushed past his lips.

He’d been shot.

Killian didn’t know why that hadn’t registered before, but it didn’t matter at the moment.

Liam did.

“You have to get out of here,” Killian managed.  “He’s after _you_.”

Liam looked down at him, dumbstruck.

“Killi-” Liam cut himself off, shaking his head violently.  “Never mind, it can’t-”

But Killian was already nodding, caught up in the thought that he didn’t want to die a stranger in the wrong time with his big brother _right there_.  “You have to get out of here, brother,” he mumbled around the blood bubbling up his throat.

“You did it,” Liam whispered reverently instead of running.  “You figured out how to travel time.  Oh, Killian…”

It was the awe and the pride that broke Killian’s defenses.  Tears coursed down his cheeks as Liam hugged him more tightly, pressing down harder on the gunshot wounds and eliciting a strangled cry from Killian.

“I did it to _save you_.  Please, Liam, I don’t want to grow up without you,” he begged.  “Go.   _Please_!”

Liam looked pale, his gaze automatically searching out the corner where the younger Killian still hadn’t appeared from.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered.

“And you _won’t_ ,” Killian assured him.  “Not if you leave _now_ , before Malcolm tries again.”

They both looked up to see the boy across the street standing stock still, his line of sight partially blocked by the throng of people running past in a panic.

Liam still hesitated.  “But you shouldn’t have to die alone, little brother.”

“I think you mean _younger_ brother.”

Liam scoffed out a laugh.  “Looks like you’re _always_ going to be the _little_ brother, Killian.  You’re pretty scrawny.”

Killian shook his head ruefully.  A bolt of pain shot through him and the world started to fade away.   _Emma_ , he thought of her for the first time.  “Promise me something, Liam,” he pleaded.

“Anything,” Liam avowed.  “Anything, Killian.  You know that.”

Killian nodded his head.  He _did_ know that.  “Not Oxford.”

“What?” Liam sounded scandalized.

“Not Oxford,” he repeated, Emma’s face dancing through his thoughts and making him smile softly.  “If this is going to work, you need to take me to Maine.  There’s a little Universi-”

“Storybrooke?” Liam questioned, and explained further at Killian’s confused glance.  “There’s a Dr. Hopper there who has been asking after you.  Is that where you mean?”

Killian nodded, the edges of his vision starting to go fuzzy.  “There’s a… a girl,” he mumbled, his eyes beginning to close.

“You mean to tell me that after all these years, my little brother has finally learned about girls?”

Killian’s face lit up as he imagined Emma smiling gently down at him.  His eyes began to close, everything fading away and leaving him floating.

“Only if you _go_ , Liam.  You’ve got to get out of here,” he managed.

“I love you, little brother,” Killian heard Liam whisper before he felt himself being lowered to the ground.  “I promise, I’ll help you fix this.”

It was cold outside his brother’s embrace, but the quick footsteps hurrying away from him let Killian finally relax, his mission finally accomplished.

 _I’m sorry, Emma_ , he thought sadly.   _I didn’t mean to leave you behind like everyone else._

A cold burst of air made him shudder, his breath hitching in his chest.   _I_ will _find you again, luv.  We’ll get a second chance, I know it._

Everything seemed to drop away as his heart rate slowed and the air in his lungs seemed to liquify.  He was dying and there was nothing he could do about it.  It wouldn’t matter now, though, not now that Liam was safe.  The timeline would change and he would never again have to come back to this accursed place.  Never again would he have to remember the way _Liam_ had died - just like this, drowning in his own blood.

Because Liam was safe now.  Killian had succeeded.  Liam was-

**_BANG! BANG! BANG!_ **

_No!_

One last burst of adrenaline allowed Killian to open his eyes.  He found Liam’s shocked gaze, saw the blood as it began to stain his shirt, his pants, the leather jacket that was - against all laws of physics - in two places at one time.  One last burst of adrenaline that allowed him to watch Liam fall to his knees and then his back, blood pooling on the ground beneath him.

Killian watched in horror as the younger version of himself finally came barreling around the corner, pushing through the crowd of panicked city dwellers.

He’d failed.

Hot tears of shame and grief streamed down his face, matching the panicked ones that coursed down the cheeks of the teenager that knelt at Liam’s side.  Killian could hear himself pleading with his older brother, begging him to stay, not to leave him behind.  He heard Liam’s attempts to be strong for the younger Killian, heard the dumb jokes about Sherlock Ohms and then the sounds of sirens that were too late to save either of them.

“Think like a proton, right?”

How was he supposed to save his brother now, if Liam were to die here, alone, on this filthy street?

And how would he ever find _Emma_?

Killian watched, detached, as the paramedics loaded Liam into the back of the ambulance, ignored the men at _his_ side, trying to save his life.  Killian wanted to rail at them for wasting their time when it was _Liam_ who needed to be saved.  He couldn’t muster the energy around the pervasive cold and the utter failure that stole the last of his life from him.

The world faded to black as Killian’s breaths petered out, his heart stuttering to a stop as the image of a textbook - battered and all covered in his big brother’s blood - was the last thing he saw.

* * *

Pain.

Burning.

Numbness.

Cold.

Had he just _died?_

Killian’s eyes opened as he gasped in air.  His hand clutched at his stomach and he expected to feel the warm stickiness of his blood flowing steadily out of him.

His shirt was pristine.

Hadn’t he just been bleeding?  Liam’s voice, sad and resigned as he promised to fix this, echoed in his ears.  “I love you, little brother,” filling him with a sense of dread. What was _wrong_ with him? What was going on? As he tried to remember, pain and chilling terror forced him to forget. The chill that permeated his entire body still made him shiver.

He’d _died_ trying to save Liam.

And Liam had still been gunned down in the street.  Killian hadn’t fixed anything.

But Killian had _died_.

Hadn’t he?

No.  Of course not.  That was…

Hadn’t he?

How many times had he died and reset the timeline?  How many times had he - or rather a version of him since he clearly could only die once - failed?

No, he hadn’t died, that was absurd.  He had just been arguing with Emma.

Hadn’t he?

Killian stared at the computer in front of him, the time coordinates flashing on the screen proving to him that he was sitting in the machine just hours before Liam’s death.  The memory… dream?... of him dying began to fade.

But watching Liam collapse in the street and seeing the younger version of himself sprinting around the corner stayed firmly in his mind.

He had to save Liam.

Killian reached for the small compartment, looking for the key that would return him to Emma after he completed his goal.  A note fluttered out.

 _Believe in yourself, Killian, and in_ us _.  I do._

_Love, Emma_

Killian unbuckled himself, struggling with the clasp at his chest, and unsealed the hatch.  He stepped out in the morning light, surprised when it didn’t take long to adjust.  He thought he’d just left a stormy evening in Maine, so it should have been a shock to his system.

It wasn’t.

The crinkle of paper in his pocket caught his attention and he pulled it out.  There was a name scrawled in Emma's familiar penmanship.

_Malcolm Pan._

At least now he knew who he was looking for.

And then he hit the city limits.

The sights, the sounds, the smells, they all bowled over him and sent him stumbling to the nearest wall for support.  He’d left Ireland behind the day Liam had been killed and he’d never been back.  Until today.

But hadn’t he just been… no, that was stupid.  He hadn’t been here since Liam had been killed.  Which, he supposed, meant that he _still_ hadn’t been back to Ireland since Liam’s death.  Time travel made his brain hurt sometimes.

Killian wandered the streets for a while, reacquainting himself with the layout and trying to ignore the grumbling need for dinner in his stomach in spite of the smells of breakfast wafting out of the restaurants he'd passed.  He was too antsy to sit down and eat, but he couldn't concentrate on anything until he did.  He finally stopped in a little family-run cafe and sat down with a good cup of tea and a breakfast sandwich, contemplating his next move.  It had been almost seven years since he'd been here, he couldn't remember exactly where Liam had taken him around the city before they'd headed towards the lec-

Liam walked in the front door, the younger version of Killian, himself, trailing along behind.

The leather jacket was falling off his shoulders, the sleeves clenched in his hands.  But it was him.  And _bloody hell_ , had he really been that small?

Killian watched with sad nostalgia as Liam placed their order and shepherded the younger him to a table.  His nose was already buried in a book.  The teenage version of himself had idolized his older brother - still did, if he were being truthful with himself - and had taken for granted that Liam would always be there for him.  Killian just wanted to march over to the table and shake himself, beg him to stop reading and just revel in the fact that his older brother was _right there_.

But he didn't want to terrify himself, or worse - have Liam panic and run off before Killian could figure out how to save him.

So he sat, sipping his tea and watching the two of them interact.

"-your breakfast, little brother?"

"Younger brother, Liam," he mumbled under his breath, parroting his younger self as he whined.

He watched Liam shake his head jovially, smacking his _younger_ brother on the back and laughing at the way the boy glared over the rims of his glasses.  "Maybe someday, Killian, but not yet."

Killian looked down at his own slight frame and grimaced.  Liam would _never_ let him live down that he'd never grown out of 'little brother' size.

He grinned like an idiot, thinking of how often Liam would take the mickey out of him for still being _littler_ than him.

But first, he had to save the idiot.  Killian finished up his own breakfast, watching them carefully over the rim of his mug lest he lose them in the shuffle of the crowd.  For such an out of the way cafe, it was surprisingly popular, but his brother's curly hair stood out amidst the throng of people bustling about.  He waited until Liam had guided his younger self from the restaurant, stalking them around a corner and down the road.

In retrospect, he should have remembered the long moments after breakfast that morning when Liam had seemingly disappeared without a word, coming back angry and overprotective.

As it was, he didn't remember until Liam had him shoved up against an alley wall, his forearm choking off Killian's air supply.

It hit him all at once: his brother was standing _right there_.  Killian could reach out and touch him, wanted to wrap his arms around the solid, flesh and blood, man he hadn’t seen outside of his nightmares in seven years.  Even with Liam looking at him like a dangerous stranger, even with his older brother choking the life out of him, even with the looming deadline just hours away, Killian wanted to take a moment for himself just to relish in the fact that his brother was _right there_.

But they didn’t have time for that.  There _was_ a deadline to this visit, a timeline to alter, and his brother to save.

"Who the _bloody hell_ are you and why are you following us?” Liam asked through clenched teeth.  “Did Midas send you?"

_Who?_

Killian shook his head frantically, scrabbling to get a hold on Liam's arm.  His brother was strong - well-built and muscular.  He’d forgotten that as well.  More importantly, however, he had no idea what Liam was talking about.  Who was _Midas_ and was he related to this Malcolm Pan who had supposedly murdered… would murder Liam?

Did Liam know all along that there was a threat?  Was this more than just a random shooting?

What had Emma found that she thought he wasn’t going to like?

"I'm..." he gasped, pushing those questions aside for later, "trying to protect... you and your... brother."

If he knew one thing, he knew that Liam would take him seriously if he mentioned the younger Killian.

Liam's arm dropped away from his throat abruptly, leaving Killian floundering for support as his diaphragm spasmed and then finally allowed him a stuttered breath.

"From who?" Liam asked suspiciously, looking over his shoulder - for _him_ , Killian realized.

Killian shook his head.  "You're in dan-"

"Who _are_ you?" Liam cut Killian off, turning back to him and looking at him curiously.

Killian blanched.  "N-no one.  Nobody important.  Just, you need to be careful today.  Keep your brother and yourself out of sight."

As he expected, Liam shook his head vigorously.  "I can't.  My little brother needs-"

"Needs _you_!" Killian couldn't help interrupting loudly, cringing when his brother started looking more defensive.  This was _not_ how he wanted this to go.

Liam was backing away, still staring at him as if he couldn't quite place him.  Killian knew the feeling.  He'd seen an older version of himself months ago in the corridor, and he had felt the vague sense of familiarity while being utterly lost as to how he knew the man.  He imagined Liam felt similar now.

"Your little brother needs you," he tried to explain again.  "I can't explain how I know, but I know that if you take him to his lecture today, you're going to be... he's going to lose you.  Can't yo-"

He was cut off again, this time by Liam's fist plowing into the side of his face.  Killian hit the ground hard, hand automatically coming up to cradle his cheek.  The skin was already warm to the touch and starting to feel tight with inflammation.

"If you _ever_ come near me or my brother again, I'll end you," Liam seethed, standing over him and practically radiating danger.  It was a side of Liam he had never seen before and never wanted to see again.

"You don't _understand_ ," he pleaded, trying to rise to his feet by aborting the movement swiftly when Liam's fists clenched again.  "I'm _trying_ to save your life!"

Liam growled, taking a step closer and speaking in a whisper that was no less terrifying than the unbridled anger he'd just spoken with.  "You can tell Midas that despite my father's debts and his faults, his sons aren't on the table and never were.  He has a problem with Brennan, he can take it up with _him_."

Before Killian could get a word around the shock that paralyzed him, Liam stalked out of the alley, leaving Killian feeling bereft.

And reeling.

Liam had known so much more than he had ever let on to Killian.  Killian could read between the lines, and when he got back to his timeline, he was going to eviscerate the man who had sired him.  Brennan was the reason Liam was dead, was the reason that Killian's life had been so effortlessly shattered.  And he had the nerve to go and name his do-over son after the one whose death had been on his hands.

Killian wanted Emma.  More than anything right now, he wanted her solid and steadying presence.  But he didn't have time for wants and wishes.  He had to get back on track and follow Liam - save the idiot's life for him, if he wouldn't do it himself.

Killian picked himself up off the ground, dusted himself off, and gingerly fingered his cheek.  There would definitely be a bruise there, the swelling already beginning to impede his vision.  Liam had just barely managed to miss his glasses, although they were askew on his nose.  Regardless, he needed to get off the street and regroup, figure out the best vantage point on the street Liam had died on to get the jump on Pan.  He needed to have a better plan than _jump in the bastard's line of sight and hope for the best_.

Killian had no idea what to do and no time to plan for contingencies and backups.

He was the only one around who could save Liam, and damn if he wouldn't succeed or die trying.

Bound and determined to figure it out as he went, Killian walked the familiar streets and tried not to let the memories overwhelm him.  The smell of Liam's blood, the feel of his skin cooling and his grip slackening, the sight of Liam's eyes closing forever.  They were all in the back of his mind as he walked, and he didn't realize he was standing on the exact spot Liam had fallen... would fall… _wouldn’t_ fall until he tripped over a catch in the sidewalk that he remembered from that day.  Though the concrete was fairly clean, all Killian could see was a pool of blood, his textbook covered in it and abandoned.  He didn't have much time before Liam would be there, he still needed to figure out where the shots would come from, find Pan, and stop him.

Liam had fallen _that way_ , he decided a moment later, meaning the shooter was likely hiding behind the mailbox and tree over _there_.

Killian took off running, wanting to get there before...

Malcolm Pan turned the corner and aborted Killian's movements before he could get there.  He'd have to figure out something else.

Killian ducked down an alley, looking at his watch and trying to figure out how much time he had left.  Liam would be coming around the corner in just a few minutes, not long enough to do anything other than charge Pan and hope he could distract him long enough for his brother to get out of the line of fire.  He crossed the street at a run, straight at the younger man who was already sighting down his weapon.  

**_BANG! BANG! BANG!_ **

He heard the first set of shots, his heart in his throat.  He remembered trying to rationalize those shots as a boy, but knew if he didn’t make it to Pan before the second set...

"Hey!" he screamed, desperate now for anything that would stop the inevitable.

To his surprise - and utter relief - Pan looked at him, startled, and dropped his weapon.  He looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Wha... who _are_ you?"  It was the second time he'd been asked that today.

Killian glared, putting himself firmly in front of the boy, trying his best to look intimidating.  "You're not going to do this," he threatened.

"I have to,” Pan said, and Killian could hear the fear.

He stepped in front of the boy again when Pan tried to weasel his way around him, warring with himself about what to do.  “What do you have to do?”

“I… the little one.  I’m supposed to take the little one as payment.  He was the collateral his father put up as payment.  And Midas always collects on his debts.”  Pan wouldn’t meet his eyes, toeing the gun at their feet, but his words sent Killian reeling.

The _little one_?   _Him_?

Killian didn’t have time to process that before the boy was scrambling for the gun.

“Where _is_ he?” Pan hissed, shoving at Killian to get the weapon he was standing on.  “The little one is supposed to be with him!”

Killian gulped.  He knew _exactly_ where _the little one_ was - around the corner, sitting on a step, engrossed in his book.

Pan finally shoved him away from the gun, reaching for it and muttering, “Midas will take the older one.  He won’t be happy, but he’ll take it.”

He aimed the weapon again, and Killian barely had time to grab the barrel and redirect it before one, two, three shots rang out.  His hand burned, but he didn’t let go.  Screams and pounding feet echoed down the street, but Killian ignored it all.

He looked around wildly, making sure that the bullets hadn’t found their mark.  Liam’s terrified gaze locked on his from across the street, and his older brother’s jaw dropped.

 _Thank you_ , Liam said tearfully, though Killian couldn’t hear the words.

 _Go_ , he mouthed urgently, and Liam didn’t hesitate, melting back into the crowd.

He was just about to turn back to the problem at hand, scrambling to find away to protect Liam permanently, when he saw Liam again - knelt down next to the first man Pan had shot - the one who looked terrifyingly like himself.

 _Had he…?  Was that_ him _lying there?_

He had to think of something, some way to - “What if I can give you Brennan instead?” -  Killian wasn’t sure who was more startled, Malcolm or himself.

“What?”

“I know where Jones is hiding, I know exactly what tavern he’ll be in tonight.  All you have to do is leave his sons alone.”  He felt sick, but he’d always known there was a little bit of darkness in him.

Pan nodded reluctantly, lowering the gun until Killian let go and stuffing it into the waistband of his jeans.  A few minutes later and it was all over.  He watched as Liam sprinted around the corner back to where the younger version of him would be waiting.  All Killian had to do now was go home to find Emma.

He only hoped he’d be able to find her when he got there.

Killian felt light as he raced back to the woods where he’d left the machine.  Liam was alive.  Liam was _alive_ and he hadn’t died and whatever else had happened in the moments before Liam _didn’t die_ didn’t matter any more.  Because his brother was alive and would be at his side once he got back and would help him find Emma.

The feeling that wrapped him in a warm blanket lasted right up until he had buckled himself into the machine.  All of a sudden, it was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water over his head.  His entire left arm erupted in agony, the only thing keeping him in his seat was the harness over his shoulders as he tried to curl in on himself.  The catalyst key clattered to the floor, forgotten in the haze of pain that shrouded him.  

He was terrified to go back.

Terrified of what else it would cost him if Emma had been wrong - if time travel exacted a sacrifice from its manipulator.  He’d already lost a hand in his pursuit to save Liam, what else could he stand to lose and still face Emma, pretending to be a whole man.

 _Believe in yourself, Killian, and in_ us _.  I do._

_Love, Emma_

He laughed at himself, the absurdity of his thoughts breaking through the fog and sending the phantom pains scurrying to the back of his mind once more.  Emma loved him; he loved Emma.  That was all there was to it.

Killian picked up the key and inserted it in the lock.


	16. Under the Heaven

_“Keep up, little brother.  We want to get good seats for this lecturer of yours.”  Killian tried to glare as Liam laughed jovially and reached out to ruffle his hair.  His glasses slid down on his nose as the roughhousing got a little too rowdy, but Liam backed off immediately when Killian stumbled._

_He wasn’t a_ baby _any more; why couldn’t Liam understand that?  He was thirteen years old, had already taken his GCSE’s the year before - three years before any of his peers - and was well on his way to finishing his sixth form courses in record time.  He’d be done with his secondary education that spring and could move on to a bachelor’s program after he’d taken some local classes to prepare him for the rigors of his program.  Colleges and universities were already hounding their father to admit him early, and Killian and Liam had plans for him to accept an enrollment at Oxford contingent on his classwork.  Liam was already looking at flats there for the two of them to live while he attended classes.  Oxford University was far enough away from Brennan Jones that he could thrive in the educational culture without reproach.  Without his father’s blatant disapproval and patent neglect._

_The book in his hands was written by the speaker they were in Ireland to see.  This man was well-versed in quantum mechanics and had ideas that meshed with Killian’s own theories and early experiments.  He wanted very much to speak with the man after the lecture, see if he could glean just a little bit more knowledge to help with the blueprints he was drafting.  The chapter he was currently devouring as they walked down the street, complete with highlighter in hand and a bit of luck in not tripping over the sidewalk, was the main subject of the lecture._

_Killian paused to turn the page, covering a passage completely in scribbled yellow._ This _idea was something new; something that might get him over the latest obstacle in his calculations.  Completely absorbed in the words on the page, he paused in the middle of the walkway, his eyes glued to the information.  Unknowingly, Killian sank down to sit hunched over the book on someone’s front steps, the cold of the concrete ignored in favor of the knowledge that gripped him._

_The numbers for his algorithm bounced around his head wildly; if he could just figure out this stage of the formula, then maybe his father would take him seriously.  If he could just work out how to make the bridge connect, then he could convince someone to fund the build of his machine.  Time travel was possible; he_ knew _it was.  Now if he could just-_

> **_BANG! BANG! BANG!_ **

_The noise startled him, but not enough to tear his eyes from the page.  He lost his train of thought, angry that the numbers fell silent once again, his equation just out of reach.  Coming back to himself, Killian realized that those sounded like gunshots._

Probably a car backfiring, Jones, don’t be a baby _, he rationalized, waiting for Liam to come back around the corner he’d disappeared behind.  His brother was probably going to yell at him for dawdling, for getting lost in his brain again, but Killian couldn’t help it.  The science of time travel - of quantum mechanics and theoretical physics - was just so interesting._

> **_BANG! BANG! BANG!_ **

_But now people were running around the corner, yelling about someone shooting and the blood from the man who was shot.  Killian stood to his feet abruptly, heart racing as he waited for Liam to get him - to get them to safety._

_But Liam wasn’t coming._

_The crowd began to thin out and Killian still didn’t hear his brother’s familiar lilting accent, didn’t hear the fear that should be ringing out clearly from his brother’s voice because Killian wasn’t with him.  Didn’t hear Liam calling out his name._

_Liam should be coming.  Any minute now._

_Any minute now and Liam would come get him, would tell him what to do and where to go.  He’d come and they’d both be safe._

_Any minute now._

_Killian took a few steps forward, towards the corner that his brother disappeared around._

_Liam was coming._

_Wasn’t he?_

_It only took another moment, his big brother barreling around the corner and grabbing Killian by the shoulders, tugging him into a fierce hug that forced the breath from his lungs._

_Liam was covered in blood._

_“Liam?” Killian queried, his heart racing now at the obvious fear that was making his brother shake, at the blood covering his brother’s shirt and jeans.  Liam was_ never _scared.  Not even when their father was drunk and yelling nonsense.  Liam was the strong one, his big brother who protected him from the world.  Liam shouldn’t be afraid.  If he was afraid, then Killian would be terrified.  “What’s going on?  Are you okay?”_

_Liam nodded and shook his head all in one movement that did nothing to quell the fear building in Killian’s gut.  What had_ happened _while they were separated?_

_“You’re okay, you’re all right.  We’re all right, it’s okay, little brother,” Liam kept mumbling into his hair, his fingers gripping Killian so tightly that he was sure to leave bruises._

_“I’m okay, Liam, I promise.”  He didn’t know what else to say._

_There were sirens now that drowned out the panicked sounds of the crowd around them.  Killian clutched his book tighter to his chest and looked up to catch Liam’s gaze, silently begging him to make it all right._

_Liam wasn’t looking at him, was following the path of the ambulance with his eyes and a strange expression across his face that Killian had never seen before.  If he had to name it, Killian thought it might be grief, but he didn’t understand why._

_“Liam?_ Are _we all right?”  It seemed like the world was flip-turned upside down, even the numbers that kept Killian company at all hours had been scattered and lost in the wake of Liam’s fear.  He needed his brother to make everything_ right _again._

_“We will be, Killian,” Liam finally turned his head away from the corner, looking down at his little brother and smiling gently.  Everything seemed to right itself when Liam tousled his hair.  “I’m sure of it now.”_

* * *

Killian sucked in a ragged breath as his atoms righted themselves and he became corporeal once more - or at least that’s how it felt.  His eyes were clenched shut, his fist aching with the tension in every muscle in his hand.  The muscles of his back spasmed with the strain of waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Killian shook a bit, trying to gauge his surroundings without actually acknowledging his surroundings.

So much depended on what happened in the next few minutes.

He’d landed.

There was no accompanying agony, no smell of sweetness and copper, no fire sapping his every thoughts.  He was able to think clearly, to realize what had happened and where he was.  Outside the cockpit was his future - with Liam or without, with Emma or without, his happy ending or the start of his next adventure.

All he had to do was open his eyes and unbuckle his harness.

The future was just beyond the cockpit door.

It took longer than he’d like to admit to, but Killian finally opened his eyes, the coordinates for the lab in Maine flashing helpfully back at him in green on the screen in front of him.  That answered _that_ terrifying question - something in his new past had led him to Maine instead of Oxford, so at least his search for Emma might be shorter.

She might even be on the other side of that door.

“Killian?” a muffled, decidedly _male_ voice called through the door.  It could have been David, but the catch in Killian’s chest denied that vehemently.  That was _Liam_.

Killian couldn’t shove himself out of the seat quickly enough, couldn’t throw open the latch fast enough, couldn’t pull his brother into his arms swiftly enough.

He was _there_.

Strong and warm and healthy and _alive_.

Killian buried his face in Liam’s neck, the fingers on his right hand cramping with how tightly he was gripping his shirt.  He could feel the tears, hot and stinging his eyes as he tried to blink them away.  The pads of his glasses pushed painfully against his nose, his eyelashes brushing the lenses with how hard his face was pushed against Liam’s skin.  But his brother recognized him, if the way he was hugging Killian back just as tightly was any indication.

Liam recognized him and he was _right there_ , whole and unharmed and so not dead that it made Killian’s knees go weak with relief.  He’d done it.  Liam was safe.  He’d saved his brother.

“You did it, little brother,” Liam was murmuring in Killian’s ear, but he couldn’t possibly understand the true implications of that statement.  Not when _this_ Liam was happily alive and _here_ and hadn’t been gunned down in the street.

Killian had done it.  He’d saved Liam.  All the years of failure and heartache and denial and scorn faded away in light of the fact that he’d saved his brother.  That somewhere in the back of his head, he knew that he would come into the memories of growing up the last eight years with his brother at his side.

The memories of Liam dying in his arms would fade, were already starting to blur around the edges.  Soon, he knew, they would be little more than ether, gone from his past as the very alive, very whole Liam took residence in his memories.  Killian would have to reconcile his new memories with the ones he’d grown up with, would have to learn a whole new past that involved his older brother being at his side.

But Killian had time to figure all of that out now.

Liam tried to pull out of the hug all too quickly for Killian’s tastes, but he found that he couldn’t let go.  He needed just another moment.

Just one more moment to assure himself that this wasn’t the start of some cruel nightmare, where Killian was going to let Liam go and have to watch him die all over again.

“Little brother?”  Liam’s voice soothed over him, warm and comforting like a heavy blanket in the black of a terrifying night.  “Are you all right?”

Killian bobbed his head wildly against Liam’s, a mad combination of ‘yes’ and ‘no’ that portrayed exactly what he was feeling.

Overwhelmed.

“Killian?  What’s wrong?  Are you hurt?  Did something go wrong?”  Liam was starting to sound worried now, but to Killian’s relief, he didn’t try to step away.  His big brother stepped impossibly closer, hugging him more tightly instead.

“‘M all right,” Killian managed, starting to believe it himself.  It took him a moment longer, but Killian finally pulled out of Liam’s embrace and stepped back.

He still didn’t let go of Liam’s shirt.

He couldn’t.

“You did it, little brother.  You traveled through time.”  The proud grin Liam rewarded him with stretched full across his face and was contagious.  A moment later and the two of them were laughing uproariously for no reason whatsoever, nearly collapsing into each other with the relief of success.

It had been so long since he’d heard Liam laugh.  Killian had almost forgotten what it sounded like.

They must look like idiots, the two of them grinning and laughing and holding each other up.

Killian could only imagine the look on Emma’s face when she came upon th-

_Emma_.

He sobered instantly.  Emma wasn’t there, sharing in his success.  She had been right at the hatch the last time he’d emerged from the capsule, he couldn’t imagine any reason that she wouldn’t be right there.

Not unless, in this timeline, he’d never met her.

Liam was clearly dressed for lab work, goggles sitting high on his forehead and the smell of welded metals surrounding him.  If _he_ were Killian’s help in the lab, then perhaps Archie had never assigned Emma to him.

Killian pulled away abruptly, startling himself as well as his brother.  “I have to go.”

“What?” Liam asked, reaching out to steady Killian and taking hold of his arm.  “Go where?”

“I have to fi-” he cut off instantly as pure agony engulfed him.  Fire traveled up and down his spine, so intense that he bent in half trying to escape it.  Memories assaulted him, pain choked his thoughts, a cry tore from his lips.

Killian curled in on himself, unable to process what was happening.  The floor was cold as Killian crumpled down on it, his descent somewhat controlled by the arms around him.  He thought he felt someone holding his head off the floor - Liam, he assumed.  His hand was on fire again, phantom pains so intense that they stole his breath.  The pains hadn’t attacked him this severely, ever.  Not even in those first days when they’d weaned him off the strong IV medication.  Tears leaked from his eyes again as he tried to focus, tried to understand.

Then, the new memories came.

**_Liam, consoling him when the police officer informed them of Brennan’s death._ **

**_Liam, congratulating him at his secondary school graduation._ **

**_Liam, moving them out of England entirely instead of to Oxford on the vague explanation that the program at Storybrooke would be more suited to their needs._ **

**_Liam, stoically listening as Killian railed against him the entire trip to the States._ **

**_Liam, always there, even when Killian was sullenly ignoring him for tearing his dream apart._ **

**_Liam,_ ** **not _smiling smugly when Killian grudgingly admitted that Storybrooke University was a better choice._**

**_Liam, telling Gold to stuff it, going to bat for him with the University and securing the funding he needed_ ** **without _Gold’s interference._**

Killian’s left hand gripped an ankle, ripping him out of the memories and allowing him to focus on his _very real_ fingers wrapped around someone’s lithe, jean-clad ankle.   _Wasn’t Liam wearing kh-_

“What the hell happened, Liam?” a very American, very _female_ voice asked hotly.

_Emma!_

More memories tore at him, these ones a mix of familiar and brand new.

**_Emma, running into him outside the science building._ **

**_Emma, sitting next to him at Robin’s concert._ **

**_Emma, arguing with Liam._ **

**_Emma, at the beach, at Granny’s, in Boston._ **

**_Emma, seemingly_ ** **always _arguing with Liam._**

**_Emma, bathed in the lights from the Christmas tree he and Liam put up every year._ **

**_Emma, glaring at_ ** **him _when he laughed at the two of them arguing.  Every.  Single.  Time._**

**_Emma, fast asleep on their couch, her face smushed against her law books._ **

**_Emma, telling him she’d be waiting when he got back from his test run._ **

“Hell if I know, lass.   _I_ didn’t do that to him,” Liam retorted and hearing the two of them bickering over his head - something he now remembered with startling clarity happening fairly often - snapped Killian out of his stupor.

He started laughing again, the pain fading away as suddenly as it had come.  He spied the knocked over cups of coffee that had spilled, presumably where his Emma had been when he’d returned.

It didn’t matter now.  She was there.  Liam was there.  They were both _here_.  With him.

He kept laughing.

“Killian?” they both asked simultaneously, worriedly.

He waved a hand, trying to get himself under control.  His _left_ hand.  As if he’d never lost it.  No more than a memory.

The older version of him was right.   _It was worth it.  Things like this are worth the risk.  Don’t forget that._

He very nearly had, and look what it would have cost him if Emma hadn’t prodded him, shoved him, forced him into his machine.  He was still angry with her for taking his choice away, but she’d saved him.  Saved Liam.  Saved all of them.

And now they were all here.  Together.

“Little brother?” Liam asked again, reaching out to brush a hand over Killian’s forehead, clearly searching for fever.

Killian batted it away out of instinct, even as part of him craved the contact, the care, the reminder that his brother was alive and fretting over him.  Had _always_ been alive and fretting over his little brother.  “‘M fine.  Stop mother henning.  And I think you mean younger brother.”

Killian looked up with a wry grin, just in time to see Liam’s eyebrow rise incredulously.

“You’ve just had some kind of fit and you want me to bel-” - he stopped abruptly, eyes going comically wide - “what the bloody hell happened to your eye?  I’ll murder whoever hit you!”

“It was _you_ , you bloody git,” Killian snarked back as he fingered the puffy bruise, working himself out of Emma’s tight grip and standing - a little shakily - to his feet.  He dragged her with him, unable to let go of _her_ now that he realized both his brother and his love were there and with him.  

His family.

His family was whole and right here and he’d _done it_.

“Me?”  It seemed like the air had been sucked out of the room with how quiet and shaky Liam got.

Emma looked worriedly between the two of them.

Killian gripped his brother’s shoulder and waited for the memories to find their way into his brother’s conscious thought.  Memories that hadn’t existed a moment ago and yet, had always been there.

“I… I punched you.  In the alley?  That was you?  But you were… You were ki… you…” Liam trailed off, turning alarmingly pale, and then lurched forward to drag Killian into as fierce a hug as he’d given Liam moments before.  He buried his own face in Killian’s shoulder as the memories solidified in _his_ brain, much as they had in Killian’s.  “I thought you were killed.  You _were_ killed.  I watched you… You die- you saved… me?  I was…”

Killian nodded against Liam’s neck, clutching his brother close.

Liam shook harder, a little cry of grief hastily bitten back nearly before it could reach Killian’s ears.  Liam sniffled, pulling Killian closer and gritting his teeth.

“But you did it,” Liam breathed in Killian’s ear, trying to get himself under control.  “You saved us.  You came back to save us.  Save me?  Because I left you alone.”

Killian nodded again, the remembered grief of growing up without Liam fading, but still not entirely gone.

“I’m so sorry, Killian… I’d never have meant to leave you alone so long.”

Killian pulled back just a little, looking Liam in the eye and seeing the understanding reflected there.  “Think like a proton, right, Liam?”

Liam laughed long and hard.  “Right, little brother.  Because they’re always positive.”

“Does someone want to clue me in, here?” Emma asked sharply, weaseling herself into Killian’s side.

Killian laughed even harder than he had before.  His hand fell to her waist, naturally tugging her in closer and breathing in the scent of her.  There was a ghost of the anger he’d held onto in the past, the need to rail at her for taking away his choice.  But this wasn’t that Emma.   _This_ Emma had been right there beside him when he’d chosen to go back in time.  But none of that mattered now.  Not when the one thing that overrode everything else he felt was his love for her.  

_That_ feeling, no change in the continuum of time could erase.  

“Oh Emma, of all the lab rooms in all the campuses in the world, you had to walk into mine,” he quoted, remembering the way Liam had poked fun of him for weeks when he’d found the hidden stock of romance movies.

She shook her head ruefully.  “I love you, Jones, but you are no Humphrey Bogart.  What am I missing?”

He drew his arm slowly up her back, playing with the ends of her hair with his left hand.  He couldn’t get over the sensations there.  “This isn’t the timeline I left, luv,” he tried to explain.

“What?  This was your first trip back.  You weren’t even going to _do_ anything other than take a celestial reading and come back.  We put in the coordinates for upstate New York together.  What do you mean?”

_His_ first _trip back?_

“No, lass, it wasn’t,” Liam broke in, still looking alarmingly pale, still clutching Killian’s right arm so tightly it was sure to leave bruises.  “Well, it _was_ and it wasn’t, I suppose.”

It all came crashing down at once.  He’d spoken to Liam the first time he’d tried to save him.  Liam _knew_ a version of Killian had been killed that day.  He knew and he’d still sent Killian back in time.  For the _first_ time in this timeline.

His brother had sent him back in time not knowing if he’d even return.  If he’d lose his little brother the way Killian had lost him.

But he hadn’t.  They were both there and their father was gone, but that didn’t seem to be nearly as big a revelation as the fact that he and Liam had survived.  That they were together and there and...

Killian looked down at his hand, realizing for the first time exactly what its presence meant.

“He never killed Milah,” he whispered incredulously.

Liam gave a start.  “Killed?  Who?  Wait.  Milah, your friend Neal’s mother?  What about her?”

“She’s all right?” he asked Liam breathlessly, gripping Emma tighter to his side.  It was clear that she still didn’t understand, but her fingers came up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck anyway, instantly soothing as it always had been.  “Liam, she’s all right?”

“Who’s Neal?” Emma cut in as Liam cocked his head to the side.

Killian buried his face in her hair.  She didn’t know Neal.  He’d never broken her.  Emma’s timeline was safe now, as well.

Gold hadn’t ruined them all.

“Milah’s fine, Killian,” Liam assured him.  “You talked to her last week, remember?”

He did.  He hadn’t known before that moment, but he did now - Milah and Neal were back in England, safe and sound and hidden from Gold.

“Are you all right?” Emma whispered, squeezing him tighter.

He nodded.  “You know, in the timeline I came from, I’m very mad at you,” he mumbled into her hair.

“Is that so?” Emma asked, tangling their fingers together.  “And now?”

Well, what was he supposed to say when she was looking at him like _that_?  “I’m not sure why I was angry any more.”

“And what about _us_?  In this other timeline, I mean” - she stepped closer into his space, running her hand up his arm - “I sense we may be close?”

Killian smiled gently, the memories of that life indelibly burned into his brain right alongside the ones he’d shared with her in this one.  He nodded confidently.  

“Very.”

“I might be jealous of the other me,” she joked, leaning in to brush her lips over his.

Liam cleared his throat loudly, and Killian swatted at him with one hand, delving the fingers of his other more deeply into her hair.  He kissed her as if his very life depended on it, remembering how he’d felt when he got back to his new present and he thought she wasn’t part of it.

How he felt when he’d collapsed and she was there to catch him.

“It seems right now that all I've ever done in my life is making my way here to you,” he finally managed when she pulled back for air.

“Quoting movies again, little brother?” Liam cut in, smirking.  “Then I suppose it’s time for me to hand you this…”

He was holding out their mother’s ring.  Killian stared, dumbfounded, until the memories righted themselves in his head.

“You told me that if you made it back in one piece, that you’d have need of it.  Scared the bloody life out of me, the whole time you were gone.  Thought your pirate of a girlfriend would pick it out of my pocket.”

Emma did the very mature, very adult thing and stuck her tongue out at him.  But she also couldn’t take her eyes off the ring.

Nor could she stop grinning.

She reached for the ring before he could, turning it over in her hand and then gracing him with that smile.  

“It’s just you and me,” she whispered, handing him the ring, “no walls, no secrets.  What do you say?”

The ring was warm in his hand, and more than that, it felt right.  He sank to one knee, mirroring her grin.  He knew she’d say yes.

“I made sure Liam had this ring ready because I wanted to do this when I got back, before this all got crazy and I got pushed into another timeline…” he paused for a moment, thinking of what he’d been through “...again.  I know that this machine has proven we may have an uncertain future, but there’s one thing I want you to be certain of: that I will always, _always_ , be by your side.  So, Emma Swan, what do you say?  Will you marry me?”

He watched with bated breath as Emma knelt down so they were on equal ground, two parts of the same whole.  Her hands came to rest on his shoulders, and she smiled gently through her tears.

“Yes.”

Killian huffed out a breath, his nerves flying away with the sound, and he slipped the ring over her knuckles.  It sat perfectly on her finger, and he nearly cried at the sight of it.

He was hers, totally and utterly, and had been for years.  And now he knew they would belong to each other forever.  The twists and turns that would come their way didn’t matter.

They had all the time in the world to make the future theirs.

 

 

**_Look at the amazing art that[optomisticgirl](http://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr made for this [chapter](https://optomisticgirl.tumblr.com/post/168052180542/he-heard-the-loud-retort-of-the-weapon-spinning)!_**

* * *

* * *

> _To every thing there is a season,_  
>  and a time to every purpose under the heaven:  
>  A time to be born, a time to die;  
>  a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;  
>  A time to kill, and a time to heal;  
>  a time to break down, and a time to build up;  
>  A time to weep, and a time to laugh;  
>  a time to mourn, and a time to dance;  
>  A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;  
>  a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;  
>  A time to get, and a time to lose;  
>  a time to keep, and a time to cast away;  
>  A time to rend, and a time to sew;  
>  a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;  
>  A time to love, and a time to hate;  
>  A time of war, and a time of peace.
> 
> _Ecclesiastes 3:1-8_

 


End file.
